A Pirate of her Own (8 page)

She had brought it on herself, and it would haunt her forever.

Serenity pushed herself out of bed and quickly dressed. There was no need in moping around and bemoaning her fate. She had chosen this course and it was time to follow it wherever it led.

And right now her rumbling stomach wanted it to lead to a kitchen somewhere. She unlocked the door and tripped over a lump.

Only, it wasn’t a lump.

The Sea Wolf had slept at her door.

Morgan came awake with a curse and a mouthful of pink silk. A sudden sharp pain stabbed his side as limbs and silk engulfed him.

“What the devil?” he asked. His hand brushed up against something warm and velvety. Something that felt incredibly good against his palm.

“Captain Drake, remove your hand from my thigh this instant!”

It was a wonderful wake-up surprise to find the woman he was dreaming of sprawled in his arms. Serenity’s outraged voice brought a rakish grin to his face. Before he could curb the impulse, Morgan ran his hand over the cool silk stocking, along the sensuous curve of her leg, feeling the supple muscles and delicate softness. But what he really wanted to do was cup the inside of her leg, especially the soft, warm juncture of her thighs.

What he wouldn’t give to trail his lips over the soft flesh. To peel back those stockings and…

“Captain Drake!” she shouted, shoving the hem of the dress down over his hand and forcing him to withdraw it. Her cheeks were flaming red. “Release me.”

“I believe you are the one holding me down, Miss James.”

Not that he minded. With Serenity lying atop him, he was tangled in her skirts and enjoying the press of her breasts against his chest as she struggled to right herself, all the while choking on indignation.

His grin widened. Oh, her outrage was delightful. He knew his smile infuriated her, which amused him all the more.

With one sharp elbow in his side, she pushed herself to her feet. “You are the devil!” she snapped, turning about in a huff.

Morgan’s laugh rumbled deep in his throat as he rose to his own feet and watched her head for the main deck. “You’re wrong, Serenity James,” he whispered. “Were I the devil, you wouldn’t have gotten away so easily.”

Serenity didn’t slow her pace until she saw Barney shouting orders up to a crewman in the crow’s nest.

“Excuse me, Mister…” she paused as she realized she didn’t know his last name, and calling him “Barney” seemed just a little too forward.

“Pitkern,” he supplied for her. “They call me Mr. Pitkern, lass. Now what can I do for you?”

It was then that she noticed the crewmen had all stopped their labors and were now staring straight at her. The two men behind Barney had stopped scrubbing the railings and water dripped from their sponges. Even their bawdy singing had ceased.

The ship was as silent as the dead of night, and only the snapping of the rigging and cries of birds broke the sudden stillness.

The hair on the back of her neck raised. This was not good. Not good at all!

Morgan paused at the top of the deck and noted the reactions of his men as they became aware of her presence. It didn’t bode particularly well. A woman on board a ship was exactly what Serenity had said, a recipe for disaster.

With purposeful strides, he crossed the deck to where she stood.

“Men,” he called, shifting their attention away from her pale form. “We have a guest for our trip. Miss James is a lady of decent temperament and is to be accorded respect. Any man who fails to show her anything less will have me to deal with.”

“Aye, Captain.”

He turned to face her. “I should have dressed

you like a powder monkey,” Morgan said in a low tone, his voice strained.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked.

“He means like one of the boys in charge of fetching powder for the cannons during a fight, Miss James,” Barney explained for her.

Serenity thanked the man before she looked back at Morgan. “Need I remind you, Captain. I
was
dressed like a powder monkey.”

“And you still managed to get into trouble.”

By the look on her face, he could tell she longed to argue, but she knew he was right, and that alone must have been what kept her silent.

Morgan rubbed his rib cage. “Now tell me what was so important that you almost punctured my lung with your foot to come out here?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What were you doing on the floor outside my room?”

“That happens to be
my
room.”

“Not until I’m returned home.”

Morgan took a deep breath. Why was he arguing with her? And why over something so stupid? It wasn’t like him to even care about such matters.

“Where were you going?” he asked again, not wanting to investigate his feelings any further.

“I was going for food, if you must know. I happen to be hungry. Now tell me why you were outside my door.”

“A man has to sleep sometime, Miss James, and on a ship a man makes his bunk wherever he can find space.”

“Aren’t there guest quarters, or…”

“This is a warship, Miss James, not a passenger ship.”

“But what about the other sailors? Don’t they have beds?”

“They make pallets or string up hammocks wherever they can. And I’m not beast enough to oust poor Barney from his room. He needs it to keep his bird happy.”

She looked around at the men who surrounded her, performing numerous duties.

Morgan could see the confusion on her face. “It’s not the glamorous life you wrote about in your story,” Morgan said, softening his tone. “Life at sea is hard. And often deadly.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“Because we love it.”

She arched a brow. “A glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”

Morgan laughed low in his throat as he swept his gaze over her trim figure and remembered just how good her thigh had felt in his hand. Aye, he was definitely a glutton for punishment.

Too bad she didn’t know just how true her words were.

“I’ve been accused of worse.” He moved back from her. “Now if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the galley.”

Without another word, she followed him back below deck.

The galley was a large room with a huge cast iron stove. A bald, surly man stood making bread at a wooden table while he barked orders to a young boy of about fourteen who hustled around the room.

“I said to fetch more flour, boy! I’ll be needing it before the winter season is upon us.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy breathed, rushing over to a barrel and pulling out a cup of flour.

Morgan cleared his throat and the middle-aged man looked up from his task with a sour frown. It instantly changed when he recognized Morgan. “Need some bread to break the fast, Captain?”

Morgan turned to her. “What would you care for, Miss James?”

The cook’s ominous frown now turned her way. Deciding an omelet and bacon would probably strain the man’s already weak patience, she shrugged. “Bread and cheese will be fine,” she said.

“Court,” the cook snapped to the boy. “Get the captain’s woman what she wants.”

Stunned by his words, Serenity stuttered. “Um…I’m not
his
woman.”

“Well, you needn’t sound so offended,” Morgan said beneath his breath.

Bemused, Serenity caught the twinge of anger in his eyes. “So I
am
your woman?” she asked.

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you implied.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s not?” she asked in wide-eyed innocence.

Scratching his neck in discomfort, he ground his teeth. “You cross-examine like a bloody solicitor.”

Pleased with herself, Serenity smiled. Why she enjoyed his discomfiture she didn’t know, but one thing was certain, she loved every minute of harassing him.

Court came forward with her food and a cup of milk. “The milk’s fresh, me lady,” he said with a heavy Cockney accent.

Serenity smiled her gratitude. “Thank you, but I’m not a lady.”

“Aye, mum, but you certainly ain’t a tart.”

Serenity was somewhat stunned by his words. How many tarts had the young boy known?

“We need to talk,” Morgan said, pulling at her elbow.

Without another word, she returned with him to his cabin. Primly she took her food to his table and sat down to eat.

Morgan barely caught her tin cup of milk before a lurch in the ship sent it flying. “This is one of the things we need to talk about,” he said, setting it back by her plate. “We have rules on a ship that everyone must follow.”

“And they are?”

“The first is that you avoid being around Cookie. If you need something from the galley, you find Kit, Barney, or myself and we’ll get it for you.”

“But that’s a waste—”

“Serenity,” he snapped, interrupting her. “Cookie is a surly old seaman and we know how to handle him. You don’t.”

Her eyes darkened in anger. “And you would abandon that child to his care? What kind of mon—”

“Court happens to be Cookie’s son and to date he has never harmed the child. Well, that’s probably not true. I’m sure Court’s hearing has been somewhat dulled by Cookie’s shouts, but he’s never physically harmed the boy.”

“Oh,” she said before taking a bite of her food.

Morgan leaned one narrow hip against the edge of her table and Serenity did her best not to think about how nicely his pants fit him.

She forced her eyes to her milk.

But it was hard to keep her gaze from trailing back to his…

“The next thing,” he said, distracting her, “is that a ship is unpredictable, especially since we have a storm moving in. As you’ve noticed, the decks are constantly rolling, and every now and again a sharp wave or break in the ocean will cause the floor to lurch out from under your feet.”

She gabbed her mug as it teetered once more. “I think I follow that.”

“For that reason,” he said, indicating the mug with a tilt of his head. “I want you to stay away from the railings lest you stumble overboard. We lost our netting a few weeks ago and until we replace it, it’s not safe to stand near the edge of the ship.”

“Wise rule, that.”

Morgan ignored her sarcasm. “When you need light below deck, then use one of the lanterns that are available. But whatever you do, don’t set one down. They are suspended by ropes to keep them from hitting the deck and setting fire to it.”

“An extremely valuable safety tip.”

His glare intensified.

“What?” she asked in all innocence.

“These are serious matters.”

“And I’m taking them as such.” She lifted her hand and counted off his rules. “One, don’t irritate the ill-tempered cook—as if my presence is innately irritating,” she said with a shrug and it was all Morgan could do not to laugh. “But that’s fine, I’m willing to abide by your order anyway. Two, don’t get myself thrown overboard because you might not stop and come back for me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“And three,” she said, ignoring him. “If I need light, don’t start a fire. I think I have it. Is there anything else?”

“Yes. Never—” he leaned close to her and pinned her with a fierce scowl. “
Never
wander around below deck without me or Barney with you.”

“What about Kit?”

“I repeat,
never
wander
—”

“Without you or Barney. I understand. I’m not allowed to walk topside, nor can I walk below deck. What could possibly be left for me to do? Oh, I know. Die from boredom!”

Bemused, Morgan took a step back, not really prepared to have this discussion with her. But he had to make her understand just exactly what kind of danger she could find herself in. “Miss James,” he said, reverting to a formal tone—anything to hide his discomfort. “I don’t know how much your parents have told you about men and…” He paused, searching for words.

“Their base cravings?” she supplied.

He nodded. “That term will suffice.”

“They gave me adequate advice and warnings,” she assured him, then she paused for a minute as if thinking something over. “You know, Captain,” Serenity said, sitting back and pursing her lips. “It seems to me that we have a problem with these rules.”

“And what is that?”

“That they are made on the presumption that I’m stupid.”

He lifted a brow. “Now, how did you get that—”

“I’m a grown woman, Captain,” she said, rising to her feet to confront him. “I can even walk and whistle at the same time without fainting. I do, after all, work alone in my father’s paper shop, which happens to be walking distance from the wharf. Believe me, Captain, I am fully capable of watching after my own affairs.”

Morgan smiled at her bravado. “I believe you said earlier, Miss James, that an ounce of prevention—”

“Is worth an army of pistols,” she said. “I agree. It is, after all, why the Good Lord gave us brains. I fully intend to keep myself out of harm’s way.”

Grateful for her sense, Morgan nodded. “I know you can’t stay down here all the time, so if you want to go topside, you can. Just make sure you’re not alone for the journey.”

“Aye, aye, Captain Drake,” she said with a mock salute.

She finished up the last bite of her breakfast, then faced him. “Now, Captain, if I may make a small request?”

“The water-closet is—”

She cleared her throat, cutting his words off. Color rose high in her cheeks. “I already found
that
.”

“Then what did you want?”

“Show me where I may make mischief and mayhem.”

“I beg your pardon?” Morgan asked, temporarily
stunned by her request.

Serenity gave him a huge smile. “Forgive me,

Captain. ’Twas a small jest. I wanted to see the look on your face. And it’s priceless. Truly, truly priceless.”

He groaned. How could she gain so much satisfaction out of making him insane?

“If you’re through with your games, then I have serious business to be about.”

“What a novel idea,” she said, pulling her small book and pencil from her pocket. “If you’ll just—”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She paused and looked up at him. “I’m going to work. You have a ship to run and I have a story to research.”

Morgan stared at her in disbelief. How she could even think about writing after all that had
happened was beyond his ken. “Isn’t writing a story what got you into this trouble?”

Her face lit up as if she were proud. “Absolutely, and if suffer I must, then far be it from me to suffer in silence. I plan to make a great novel out of this ordeal.”

“Ordeal?” he asked, offended by her choice of words. If she wanted an ordeal, he could certainly give her one!

But then he reminded himself that she was sheltered and naive, and to her this
was
an ordeal.

“Adventure, then,” Serenity amended. “Actually, it’s hard to say whether it’ll be an ordeal or adventure until all this is behind me. Not that it matters right now.” Putting her glasses on, she gripped her book and pencil like a soldier would his musket. “Now take me topside, Captain.”

“I’d rather take your bottom side and spank…” he said under his breath.

Serenity tensed, and gave him a look that said she wasn’t quite sure she’d heard what he said. “What was that?”

He sighed. “I feel blindsided by your chatter, Miss James.”

He watched the comical expression on her face as she tried to match the syllables he supplied her with the ones she’d originally heard.

By her frown, he could tell she knew they didn’t match.

Irritated and yet somewhat amused, Morgan headed out of the room and did his best not to grumble or curse as she followed behind him.

After several steps, Serenity asked. “You’re thinking, ‘Why me?’ aren’t you?”

He paused at her question and turned around to look at her over his shoulder. “How did you know?”

“You have that same look my father gets right before he says it out loud and implores my mother’s soul for help.”

“Does that a lot around you, does he?”

“Well, only every now…hey!” she snapped as she caught his meaning, not to mention his teasing smile. “That was rude. You don’t know me well enough to be so insolent.”

“No, but I’m learning fast.”

She gave him a damning look that told him she probably had a sudden impulse to shove him up the ladder. And under her breath she whispered, “I’ll get you!”

I wish you would,
Morgan thought to himself as he turned around to help her up the short ladder that led to the deck. There was nothing he could think of that would be more pleasurable than being
had
by Miss Serenity James.

“Now, remember rule number two,” he said in warning, “If you fall overboard, I won’t go back for you.”

“I thought you said you would.”

“I said, I never said it. Now I am.”

“Well then, Captain, let’s go see what trouble I can go stir up before I manage to fall overboard.”

Now, that was something to fear. There was no telling what trouble a woman alone could stir up on board a ship of renegade pirates.

Morgan reached out and lightly grabbed her arm. “Remember our talk, Serenity. There are a lot of rough men aboard my ship and I’ve already breached one of the pirate’s ten greatest commandments.”

“Which is?”

“Never bring a woman on board a ship. It’s rather like storing gunpowder in the galley, next to the stove.”

Serenity cocked her head, and too late he realized what he’d let slip. Holding his breath, he hoped she hadn’t caught his words.

“It’s true then,” she asked, “that pirates have a code of honor they observe?”

“Yes, they do,” he answered, thinking the danger had passed.

“And how is it you know about this code?”

So much for that—damn the wench for her intelligence. He should have known he couldn’t slip anything past her. Aye, she was a sly one. And Morgan wasn’t about to divulge his past to her. “I sail for a living.”

“But you’re not a pirate…” She paused and watched him closely as if trying to see through him. “Or are you?”

Morgan decided on the truth. “Depends on whom you ask.”

And with that flippant response, Morgan crossed the deck to speak with Jake.

“Fine,” Serenity whispered. “You go your way, but I promise I shall get to the bottom of all your secrets, Captain Drake. Just you wait and see.”

Chewing the tip of her pencil, Serenity glanced around the deck at the men who were now working quietly. A few of them glanced her way, then quickly looked back at their tasks. None of them seemed approachable.

Who looks like the most interesting member of the crew?
she asked herself, looking around.

Serenity glanced up at the sails flapping in the wind. It was a gray morning, uninviting. But at least the light drizzle had stopped for the time being. By the look of the clouds, she could tell the rains would be back.

She walked around the center of the deck. Heavy winds blew at her skirts and hair, making it difficult to walk.

There was a young man of about twenty climbing up a mast with rope curled about his torso. He might have a story, but she wasn’t about to go up the sail to find it.

Maybe later.

Three men were to her left, folding the canvas sails, while another man scrubbed at the decks. To her right was a large, well-muscled black man who sat to the side with a huge rope and some long, thick, needle-shaped tool she couldn’t name.

There was something about the man that warned of danger, but even so he looked to be the crewmember with the most interesting stories.

Which meant he was the perfect man for her to talk to.

Crossing the deck, she stopped directly in front of his stool. “Hello,” she said, offering him her warmest smile.

He glanced up with a feral snarl. “I’ve killed over a hundred men,” he growled out in a low and vicious voice. “Half of them I kill for simply saying hello.”

Her heart instantly sped up.

Run away, Serenity!

Nay,
she told herself. A good writer doesn’t turn tail and run. A good writer gathers the story in spite of danger.

Besides, there was something about this man that belied his fierce voice, a kindness in his dark eyes that bespoke a more gentle nature.

At least she thought she perceived that.

On second thought, she
hoped
she perceived that.

Deciding to test her theory, she asked, “Is that the greeting you always use when someone approaches you?”

He turned his dark stare toward her, appraising her. After several seconds of silence, he grinned. “You are a
majana
. Maybe we should call you
ushakii
, too!”

It took her a minute to translate his melodious accent.
“Majana?”

“Aye, it means fine child, in my language.”

“Oh,” she said, making a quick note on her pad. “What language is that?”

“Kiswahili.”

Serenity sank to her knees on the deck next to him. “Could you spell that?”

He did and she quickly took notes, then offered him her hand. “My name is Serenity James.”

His huge, callused hand swallowed hers as he shook it. “They call me Ushakii, which means courage.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Ushakii.”

“Please,
majana
, call me simply Ushakii.” Now there was no mistaking the kindness in his eyes.

Grateful his malice had melted away, she watched as he returned to splitting the rope with a huge iron needle. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I am splicing the rope, then rewrapping it to make it stronger.”

“Is this what you do mostly on board the ship?”

His smile widened. “No, I have many duties. This is just the one that currently needs to be done. We will need more ropes for the storm that is to come.” He stopped his work and watched her make more notes. “What is it
you
do,
majana
?”

“I’m taking notes to write a story about Captain Drake and his crew.”

His look spoke loudly in the ancient male domination language—
What, you female, write?

“It’s for my father’s paper,” she explained, and then wished she could bite her tongue off. There was nothing wrong with writing for her father. Jonathan did it.

Yet she’d always felt the need to supply that information like some sort of ready-made excuse as to how
she
, a woman, could get a story published. It should be enough that she was a good writer and
that
was why she was printed.

But it wasn’t.

Refusing to let it daunt her, she shrugged away the sudden lump in her throat and pursued her story like any man would. “Have you really killed over a hundred men?”

His deep laugh rumbled like thunder out of his chest. “Between us,
majana
, no. But it is what I tell the others. The mark of a man is not so much what he is, but what others think him to be.”

She pondered his words for a moment. That was the motto that her father lived and died by—protect your reputation at all cost.

Though she might hate the hypocrisy, she knew it was true. People’s opinions did matter, regardless of truth. In private, a person could be the most evil of people, cruel, vicious, but so long as the public never knew, then that person would be touted as a saint.

“Then I shall put you down as having killed over two hundred men.” She made a quick note. “Why is it you wish people to think you’re a cold-blooded murderer?”

He shrugged. “What can I say? It makes them leave me and mine alone.”

Serenity frowned at his words. “But isn’t it lonely to always be left alone?”

He looked up at her, his eyes as wise as a sage. “A man can be in a crowd always and still be alone,
majana
. I like my own company. You like your own company, too, I can tell. I think you know what you want.”

“Sometimes.”

He gave her a knowing stare. “What brought you to our company?”

“Stupidity mostly.”

He cocked a brow.

Serenity was reluctant to share her dreams with this man. But something in his patient expression encouraged her to trust him not to laugh at her. “May I be honest with you, Ushakii?”

“Only fair. I was honest with you.”

“I want to be a great writer,” she said, her voice heavy with her desire. “I want people everywhere to know my name and long after I die, I want people to read what I have left behind.”

“But you are a woman. It is not for you to want such things.”

He had mocked after all. “Yes, I am a woman. But I want so much more.”

His smile widened. “Like Lou, you are.”

“Lou?”

He nodded up the rigging to the young man Serenity had seen earlier. “Lou came to sea for adventure, too. He didn’t want to be a farmer like his father and brother. He wanted adventure and danger. But he is young. I think one day he will realize the sea hasn’t as much to offer as a place on the earth that you can own yourself. Raising sails is not nearly as satisfying as watching a harvest grow.”

What an odd view for a sailor,
she thought. “If you feel that way, then why do you sail?”

“I have no reason to leave the sea. This ship is my home, these men my brothers. Unlike Lou, I have no other family.”

Serenity picked up her pencil and began taking more notes. “How is it you came to sail on
Triton’s Revenge
?”

Anger flickered through his eyes, stunning her with its intensity. She hated that she had dredged up such an unpleasant memory for him.

“I was being beaten in Cairo by a slaver,” he said, his voice filled with hatred. “The captain stopped him and bought me.”

“You’re his slave then?”

He shook his head. “Nay, the captain set me free. He said no man should be forced to serve another, said I could do whatever I wanted.”

“Why didn’t you go home?”

He sighed and looked out over the sea as if he were looking back into the past. “My village was destroyed by an enemy tribe. I had no home to return to.”

“I’m sorry, Ushakii.” She placed a hand on his arm.

He covered her hand with his and lightly stroked the backs of her fingers in a gentle caress. “Don’t feel for me,
majana
. Things are good here. Fate has given me this life and I vowed long ago not to dwell on things I could not change, but to focus on making my life the best it can be. I am happy to sail with the captain and see many things.”

She smiled. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Morgan looked over Jake’s shoulder and stopped midsentence when he saw Serenity talking to Ushakii.

Jake turned and followed the line of his stare.

“Well, I’ll be,” Jake said with a low whistle. “I didn’t think Ushakii talked to anyone.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Well, Drake,” Jake said, his voice laced with murder. “You better start worrying. If your woman can get more than yes or no out of Ushakii, she can get information out of anyone.”

Exchanging serious frowns, they turned in unison to see Kit joining them on deck. And each one knew the other’s thoughts as well as his own.

Kit was an easy mark for someone as beguiling as Serenity.

Worse, Kit was the one person on the ship who knew the entire truth about Morgan and Jake.

“What?” Kit asked as he neared them.

“Stay away from Serenity,” Morgan and Jake said simultaneously.

Under more normal circumstances it would have been funny.

“Seduce her, Drake,” Jake said, his gaze returning to the source of their discussion. “A woman in love will go to her grave before she betrays her man.”

Morgan shook his head. “And a woman scorned will cry out your darkest secrets from the highest mountaintop. Which is exactly what she’ll do if I seduce her, then refuse to marry her.”