The Pirate's Secret Baby (15 page)

Those times were past, and she had only herself to look to for comfort in the night. She could do better for Mattie. She needed reassurance there was stability in her life, someone who would be there for her, because Lydia was leaving.

"Your mama loved you very much and sent you to me because she knew I would take care of you, Mathilde," he assured the child. "You've had a bad dream, but you have nothing to fear. I will not leave you."

"Is that a promise, Papa?"

"You know it is, Mattie. Didn't I say I will love you always and forever?"

He laid her back down and tucked the covers around her.

"Stay, Papa, please?"

"There is nothing here to frighten you, Mattie."

"I won't be frightened," the child protested. "But Miss Burke might get afraid during the night if she hears a noise. Please don't go!"

He looked over at Lydia, then back at the child.

"Miss Burke is as fierce and courageous as Anne Bonny or Mary Read, poppet. Didn't she travel all the way to the islands? And who else would take on the task of teaching Nash and Turnbull their numbers? I will be directly across the way if you need me, but I have confidence your governess will protect you."

Mattie looked skeptical, but yawned and said, "
Maman
used to sing to me when I had a nightmare. Will you sing to me?"

"Sing?"

"Yes, Papa."

He looked at Lydia, but she said nothing, so he cleared his throat and started singing "Haul Away Joe." His voice was not on a level with his amazing looks, but he could carry a tune, and soon the child's eyes were closed.

"She's asleep," he whispered, and stood.

"Hardly the most appropriate lullaby, Captain St. Armand."

"Trust me, it was the most inoffensive chantey I could recall on short notice."

She tilted her head and looked at him. "You think me as fierce and courageous as a lady pirate?"

"It's only the truth, Miss Burke. Goodnight."

"See, now angle the knife so it skates along the bone instead of cutting straight down. Does more damage that way. Miss Burke, it is difficult to teach with you making those squawking noises."

"Captain St. Armand! Is this teaching of violence truly necessary?"

"It depends on whether you want some assurance that if Mattie ever gets into a fight she can walk away with her parts intact. Remember, child, there is no unfair fight. The only unfair fight is the one you lose. Run, hide, throw dirt in their eyes, kick them in the bollocks, bite, scratch, punch, claw their eyes out--whatever it takes to walk away alive, that's what you do."

"Aye, Captain."

Lydia must have made another disapproving noise because the pirate turned his attention on her.

"What do you know about defending yourself against attackers, Miss Burke? For example--here, take this."

He passed her his boot knife, taking up the wooden blade he used with Mattie.

"Now, face me and try to stab me."

"This is ridicul--" Lydia never finished the statement because St. Armand moved toward her with a stabbing motion and she fell back, coming up against the mainmast. He pulled up a fraction from where his "weapon" would have entered her belly.

"You see? You never know where violence will come from. It is always best to be ready for it. Mattie, what's the first rule of a fight?"

"Run away if you can."

"Excellent. There is no sense in standing there and allowing yourself to be injured or killed. But sometimes a fight is necessary. Miss Burke, if you saw someone attacking Mattie, what would you do?"

"I would try to stop them!"

"You see? That is your natural response, and it is a good one." He looked down at the child and ruffled her hair.

"Our lesson is finished for today, Mattie. I want to spend some time helping Miss Burke improve her skills. Practice with your blade in your left hand because we're going to work on that tomorrow."

Mattie looked disappointed her lessons were ended, but passed over her practice blade.

"Here, Miss Burke. It hurts if Papa raps you with this, but it will help you learn quicker."

"Thank you," Lydia said, gingerly taking the implement from her pupil.

He slipped his knife back into his boot. "Soon enough you ladies will be practicing with real blades, but you should be prepared to turn anything at hand--a book, a teapot, a parasol, a shoe--into a weapon."

"A shoe?"

"Not as effective as an axe if you throw it, but it could allow you a few more seconds to escape danger. And if you throw it with enough strength and aim you could put out an eye," he finished on an encouraging note. His eyes tracked Mattie as she went to the stern to talk to Turnbull.

"I have enemies. They won't hesitate to use Mattie to get to me. Until recently I never had to worry about anyone else being hurt because of who I am--the men know the risk and can take care of themselves. But now there's Mattie..."

"'He that hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune...'"

"Yes. Bacon had the right of it, Miss Burke." He braced his shoulders and when he looked back at Lydia his face wore its usual charming expression. "You too should know how to defend yourself. I do not know--yet--what dark secrets you're hiding that make you so averse to returning to England, but I would wager some tricks to defend yourself might come in handy for you as well. So today we will have a lesson, and we will have a lesson every day, little hedgehog, until we make landfall. Who knows? Perhaps your next employer will appreciate the added skills you bring to your classroom?"

"The odds of me being hired by another pirate are rather slim, Captain St. Armand."

"Of course you think that, but what were the odds of being hired by even one...merchant captain...Miss Burke? The sea is a dangerous place, and additional training could come in handy for you."

Lydia knew there was no avoiding this and there was a small part of her cheering inside, the part of her who rebelled against pulling her hair into a tight bun and keeping her eyes down to play the role of a meek governess. More than most, Lydia knew being able to defend oneself from attackers was a useful skill indeed for a woman on her own.

"What do you want me to do?"

He smiled at her, pleased with her acquiescence.

"Just as with Mattie, we will start with the basics. Now, hold your knife like this--a good grip, blade edge down. You see how you can angle your wrist--here, let me show you."

Before Lydia could protest he stepped behind her, so close she felt him pressing up against her.

"Try to relax, Miss Burke. I'm not going to ravish you here up on deck in full sight of the crew. They would be jealous of my skills. I'd much rather ravish you in the privacy and comfort of my berth."

She attempted to pull away, but his arm was wrapped about her waist, holding her secure against him.

"You're correct," she gritted through her teeth. "Knowing how to knife fight might save me from unpleasant encounters with all manner of scoundrels."

"Exactly. Now then--what is that cologne you're wearing? You smell heavenly."

"Captain St. Armand! Release me at once! And I am not wearing cologne. I only use soap and water. Your soap."

"Is that so? It certainly smells different on you."

He leaned his head forward again, inhaling deeply. Lydia's gaze darted around frantically, but none of the men were watching them. Taking hold of her wrist, the one holding the wooden blade, he said, "Loosen your grip so I can reposition your fingers."

She followed his command blindly, too aware of how close he was, how she smelled his soap on him, and it
was
different, muskier, darker, making her breathe in his clean scent of salt and man along with the soap.

His warm hand moved over her nerveless fingers, stroking along the length of her hand, moving the wood until it was satisfactory to him, then he closed his hand around hers.

"You see? This grip will keep you from being sliced by your own weapon. You would be amazed how often that happens with people who just grab a knife and start flailing away with it."

She forced her focus back on what he was saying, what he was doing as he extended her arm in front of her, then moved it to the side. It was more comfortable holding the knife like this, but when he stepped back she was finally drew air into her lungs to the full.

He glided in front of her and watched her, his smirk doing nothing to improve her temper.

"I am glad you insisted I learn how to do this properly, Captain St. Armand. One never knows when one will have to defend oneself against ne'er-do-wells."

"So true. However," his face grew serious, "you would be at a disadvantage in a fight based on reach, strength and your lack of experience. What you have going for you is the element of surprise. An attacker might expect a tavern doxy to be armed with a knife, but he wouldn't expect it of a lady such as yourself. Surprise can be a powerful weapon and properly used can give you a chance to escape danger or stop it. The best knife-fighters depend on speed for success, so that is what we will work on today."

All of what he said was sensible, and Lydia forced her total attention on his words and actions, not on how he looked standing there in his open jacket, the laces of his shirt fluttering in the breeze, his hair disarranged so that a gleaming lock fell across his forehead. He hadn't shaved this morning, and his jaw was darkened by a shadow making him look even more piratical. She'd felt it against her neck when he leaned in earlier. That clash of textures against her skin, the abrasion of his stubble woke nerve endings long dormant, rousing memories of a man's body against hers, a man's hair-roughened limbs entwined with hers and how long it had been missing from her life.

Her body remembered those sensations, her instincts drawing her into dangerous waters where she was poorly armed to defend herself against bad decisions.

"And once an attacker realizes you're armed, he may grab for your knife. Remember, a soft grip to throw, a tight grip to keep. Sometimes you will see people grip the weapon with the point down, to stab from overhead. Always a mistake, unless your goal is to make your victim burst out laughing. Look, I will show you."

He came and stood before her, his movements workmanlike as he focused on the task at hand. He moved the blade in her hand so that it pointed down.

"Now, extend your arm and see where the shadow is on the deck."

She saw the plank where her knife's shadow ended, a tiny bit of tar marking the spot.

"Flip your knife over so that you're holding it as I showed you, then extend again. Your shadow is longer now, your reach better. It's also easier to disarm an opponent using the other grip. Switch again and try to stab me--and don't smile as you're doing it, even though I am sure the thought of running me through gives you great pleasure."

She switched to the point down grip and moved in to stab him, realizing what he was saying as soon as she stepped forward. She had to raise her arm high, which exposed all of her side and chest, and as she brought her arm down he easily blocked the move then grabbed her wrist, twisting until she was forced to drop the wooden knife.

It also brought her up against him.

"You see, Miss Burke?" he breathed, his lips nearly against hers, so close she could taste the scent of coffee. "Now you are defenseless and I could poke you with my...weapon with little resistance."

So she brought her knee up in a movement as old as women dealing with annoying men, a movement he'd been totally unprepared for. Her angle wasn't perfect so it was a glancing blow, but enough to make him curse and jump away from her.

"You're correct, Captain, that element of surprise is quite valuable when opponents aren't equally skilled."

He glared at her, his eyes cobalt slits, but then bowed his head and said, "A true hit. I made the elementary mistake of misjudging my opponent, and you were right to take advantage of my error. Let us continue."

It had been an entertaining morning, Lydia admitted to herself that afternoon as she strolled the deck. It was far too beautiful to stay below as Mattie napped and she wanted to savor her freedom, pretend there wasn't the possibility of disaster at the end of this voyage. At the very least she would not be able to enjoy this feeling of flying across the waves, the salt spray on her face making her lick her lips, savoring the special taste of the ocean, a memory to store for darker days. She had the impression of eyes on her and looked over to the stern where Captain St. Armand watched her, his face shadowed by the canvas straining above them. He exchanged a word with Conroy, then walked over to her and she watched him, watched the lithe grace of his body, the play of muscles beneath his breeches and his coat.

He took her arm, without asking permission, and began to walk around the deck with her. She did not think to protest, and frankly, did not wish to. She was honest enough to admit to herself that the pirate captain may be many things she could not approve of, but he was not boring.

Far from it. Every time she was in his vicinity it was as if she were awakening from a nap, her senses coming alive as they had not for a long, long time. She asked him questions about his ship as they walked. Not only was she curious, but one never knew when knowledge would come in handy. If she wanted to stay in the islands or live in a coastal community, knowing something of ships and sailing would help her teach her students information they needed in their own lives.

"Repairs are a substantial expense on this vessel, or any vessel of this size. Fortunately, many of the ships with which we do business have what--"

"A sail, Cap'n!"

The call from Norton distracted Lydia from any caustic remarks about stealing rope. Captain St. Armand dropped her arm without ceremony and went to where Norton pointed before directing the man aloft.

Mr. Fuller came alongside the
Prodigal Son's
commander.

"Looks to be the
Marianne,
Cap'n. "

"Last I heard the
Marianne
was in Havana, stocking up on rum for the Liverpool trade, Mr. Fuller. Easy pickings for us. Prepare for action, Mr. Fuller!"