Care and Feeding of Pirates (35 page)

The words went straight to Christopher's
heart.

As Honoria continued to study him, her gaze
took on a faraway look, and a smile tugged the corners of her
mouth.

Christopher began to smile back. He'd been
filled up with love for so many years for her, but he'd barely
known her. He'd remembered her first as a sweet, enticing girl,
then as a loving, beautiful woman.

On this voyage, Christopher had learned that
Honoria was both these women and more. She was sensual, funny,
aggravating, haughty, pleasing, caring, proud, and beautiful. She
was Christopher's wife in all senses of the word, and he loved
her.

The look she fixed on him now made his blood
hot. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

Wordlessly, Honoria pushed Christopher onto
his back and touched the buttons of his breeches.

"Vixen," he said.

Her smile widened. She popped open the first
button and then the next. His arousal tumbled from the opening,
confined too long.

Honoria caught it in her hand. Dark
sensations trickled through Christopher's body and made his heart
beat hard and fast.

She teased him, oh she teased him. For the
better part of an hour, Honoria teased him with her fingers, her
lips, her tongue. Christopher lay back, an invalid, and let her
have her way with him.

Just when he thought he could stand it no
longer, Honoria slid her leg over his hips and lowered herself down
onto him. He slid right inside, finding her slippery and
inviting.

Honoria's green eyes opened wide, starry in
the afternoon stillness. She gasped, her frenzy beginning to take
her. "I love you so much, Christopher."

"I love you, my wife," he said, meaning every
word.

"I want you too." She closed her eyes,
shutting them tight. "Please, Christopher. I love you. I want to be
with you forever."

"I love you too," Christopher said. "Forever,
love. I wouldn't have it any other way." Then he gathered her to
him and finished it.

*****

Epilogue

They found the Mexican gold right where Manda
and St. Cyr had hidden it. They loaded it up, and sailed off to
seek out the rest.

They found that too, and divided the spoils.
Each man--and woman--got an equal share, and Christopher, because
he was the captain, got two.

Christopher gave the
Starcross
to
Manda, and she sailed off in it to find a place where she could
marry her Mr. Henderson. Henderson had shaken Christopher's hand in
genuine friendliness, given Honoria a good-bye kiss on the cheek,
then slid his arm around Manda's waist and walked away with
her.

Christopher watched them go with some sorrow,
but he was glad that his sister had found a taste of the happiness
that Christopher had. And she'd be back. She and Christopher still
shared a bond that nothing could break.

Christopher took Honoria to a coastal
Carolina town not far from Charleston and bought her a fancy house,
a fancy carriage, and fancy gowns.

They lived near an isolated beach and took
endless walks up and down the warm sand--and used the stretch of
sun-warmed sand for other activities as well. At last Christopher
did get to see his wife run, leaving her dress behind, while he
pursued her down the wide beach.

The first child they had was a little girl,
followed by a boy, and then another girl. Christopher taught them
how to sail a pirate ship, how to find and board a prize, and how
to sell the booty. He held them on his knees while he told them
tales of his adventures, and they clamored for him to take them to
sea, so they could have adventures of their own.

They took the children to Charleston for
holidays, where they became close friends with their
cousins--Isabeau, growing into a charming young lady, and toddling
Paul. Grayson and Alexandra and their growing family--two more
girls added to Maggie, the twins, and the youngest boy, came to
visit often.

Manda and Henderson joined them whenever they
were in port. After the first couple of years, they brought with
them a lovely boy and girl with Manda's black skin and Henderson's
straight bearing.

Christopher loved the chaos and warmth, and
he also liked that he, James, Grayson, and Henderson could sit on
the veranda in whatever house they chose to meet, and tell stories
of their youth--without rancor, without battle.

The four of them had seen much, and now they
were ready to let themselves relax with the love of their wives and
family to bolster them. Ardmore, in particular, had softened in an
amazing way.

Honoria wrote a book about her adventures
with Christopher--in it she explained to young ladies what they
could expect from a pirate with whom they might find themselves
involved.

She recorded what pirates liked and disliked,
how they behaved, the words they used and what they meant, what
kind of ships they sailed, and the kinds of treasure they
preferred. She described what pirates expected from their wives,
and why their orders should not always be obeyed.

Honoria had conferred with Christopher on the
title, and they decided to call it
The Care and Feeding of
Pirates.

The little book sold thousands of copies up
and down the coast and as far away as England. It was read by the
ladies in London who enjoyed Alexandra's soirees, and smuggled into
young ladies' finishing schools in Charleston. Diana and Alexandra
each made sure to acquire a copy.

Christopher read bits out to Honoria one
evening as they lazed on the beach, their children playing in the
sand not far away. Then Christopher held the book out of Honoria's
reach and told her he'd give it back for a kiss.

"That's how all this started," Honoria said,
smiling her pretty smile.

"I know," Christopher said. He studied the
sheen of her dark hair, the lovely softness of her green eyes, the
tiny lines around her mouth now much given to laughter. "I'm smart
enough to know a good plan when I see it."

Honoria laughed then, and kissed him, his
fine Southern lady, and he fell in love with her all over
again.

End

Please continue for a preview

of

Jennifer Ashley's

Captain Lacey Regency Mysteries

written as
Ashley Gardner

* * * * *

The Hanover Square Affair

by Ashley Gardner

Captain Lacey Regency Mysteries

Book One

*****

Chapter One

London, April 1816

Sharp as a whip-crack, a shot echoed through
the mists in Hanover Square.

The mob in the square boiled apart, flinging
sticks and pieces of brick as they fled the line of cavalrymen
who'd entered the far side of the square. I hugged a rain-soaked
wall as people poured past me, bumping and shoving in their panic
as though I weren't six feet tall and plenty solid.

The square and the streets that led to it had
been bottled with traffic all afternoon: carts, carriages, horses,
wagons, and those on foot who'd been running errands or passing
through, as well as street vendors crying their wares. The mob had
stopped traffic in all directions, trapping inside the square those
now desperate to get out. They scrambled to get away from the
cavalry and their deadly guns, and bystanders scrambled to flee the
mob.

I scraped my way along the wall, rough stone
tearing my cheap gloves, going against the stream of bodies that
tried to carry me along. Inside the square, in the eye of the
storm, the cavalrymen waited, the blues and reds and canary yellows
of their uniforms stark against the fog.

The man who stood in their gun sights had led
the mob the better part of the afternoon: shouting, cursing,
flinging stones and pieces of brick at the unfortunate house that
was number 22, Hanover Square. Now he faced the cavalrymen, his
back straight, his gray hair dark with rain.

I recognized the lieutenant in charge, Lord
Arthur Gale of the Twenty-Fourth Light Dragoons. A few years
before, on a Portuguese battlefield, I'd dragged young Gale out
from under a dead horse and sent him on his way. That incident,
however, had not formed any camaraderie between us. Gale was the
son of a marquis and already a social success, and I, the only son
of an impoverished gentleman, mattered little to the Gale
family.

I did not trust Gale's judgment one whit. He
had once led a charge so hard that he'd broken through a solid line
of French infantry but then found himself and his men behind enemy
lines and too winded to get back. Gale had been one of the few
who'd returned from that charge, leaving most of the others, horses
and men alike, dead.

"Gentlemen," the old man said to the
cavalrymen. "I thank you for coming. We must have him out. He must
pay for what he's done."

He pointed at the house--number 22,
ground-floor windows smashed, front door's black paint gouged.

Gale sneered down at him. "Get along, man, or
we'll take you to a magistrate."

"Not I, gentlemen. He should face justice.
Take him from his house. Bring him out to me. I beg of you."

I studied the house in some surprise. Any man
who could afford to own, or lease, a house in Hanover Square must
be wealthy and powerful. I assumed he was some peer in the House of
Lords, or at least a rich MP, who had proposed some unpopular bill
or movement, inspiring a riot against him. The rising price of
bread, as well as the horde of soldiers pouring back into England
after Waterloo, had created a smoldering rage in those who suddenly
found themselves with nothing. The anger flared every now and then
into a riot. It was not difficult these days to turn a crowd into a
violent mob in the space of an instant.

I had no idea who lived in number 22 or what
were his political leanings. I had simply been trying to pass
through Hanover Square on my way to Brook Street, deeper into
Mayfair. But the elderly man's quiet despair and incongruous air of
respectability drew me to him. I always, Louisa Brandon had once
told me, had a soft spot for the desperate.

Gale's eyes were dark and hard. "If you do
not move along, I will have to arrest you for breach of the King's
peace."

"Breach of the King's peace?" the man
shouted. "When a man sins against another, is that not a breach of
the King's peace? Shall we let them take our daughters while we
weep? Shall I let him sit in his fine house while mine is ruined
with grief?"

Gale made a sharp gesture to the cavalryman
next to him. The man obediently dismounted and strode toward the
gray-haired rioter.

The older man watched him come with more
astonishment than fear. "Is it justice that I pay for his
sins?"

"I advise you to go home, sir," Gale
repeated.

"No, I tell you, you must have him out! He
must face you and confess what he's done."

His desperation reached me as white mists
moved to swallow the scene. The blue and red of the cavalry
uniforms, the black of the man's suit, the bays and browns of the
horses began to dull against the smudge of white.

"What has he done?" I asked.

The man swung around. Strands of hair matted
to his face, and thin lines of dried blood caked his skin as though
he'd scratched himself in his fury. "You would listen to me? You
would help me?"

"Get out of it, Captain," Gale said, his
mouth a grim line.

I regretted speaking, unsure I wanted to
engage myself in what might be a political affair, but the man's
anger and despair seemed more than mob fury over the price of food.
Gale would no doubt arrest him and drag him off to wait in a cold
cell for the magistrate's pleasure. Perhaps one person should hear
him speak.

"What has the man in number 22 done to you?"
I repeated.

The old man took a step toward me, eyes
burning. "He has sinned. He has stolen from me the most precious
thing I own. He has killed me!"

I watched madness well up in his eyes. With a
fierce cry, he turned and launched himself at the door of number
22.

End of Excerpt

*****

About the Author

New York Times bestselling and award-winning
author Jennifer Ashley has written 45 published novels and a dozen
novellas in romance, urban fantasy, and mystery under the names
Jennifer Ashley, Allyson James, and Ashley Gardner. Her books have
been nominated for and won Romance Writers of America's RITA (given
for the best romance novels and novellas of the year), several RT
BookReviews Reviewers Choice awards (including Best Urban Fantasy,
Best Historical Mystery, and Career Achievement in Historical
Romance), and Prism awards for her paranormal romances. Jennifer's
books have been translated into more than a dozen languages and
have earned starred reviews in Booklist.

More about her books and series can be found
at

www.jennifersromances.com

Or email Jennifer at
[email protected]