How To Please a Pirate

PRAISE FOR MIA MARLOWE’S
HOW TO PLEASE A PIRATE

“Loved every minute. The children will make you
laugh; Gabe and Jacquelyn’s relationship will make you sizzle, and
Jacquelyn’s personal dilemma will make you cry. A Perfect
10!”
~ Romance Reviews Today

“A feel-good, fun historical romance with
plenty of sexual sizzle! Looks like another winner!” ~ Romance
Reader at Heart
 

“This great Georgian
romance is filled with bawdy humor, mindful of Fielding's
classic
Tom Jones.”
~ 
Harriet Klausner

PRAISE FOR MIA
MARLOWE’S
HOW TO DISTRACT A
DUCHESS

"A cast of characters that stays with you
long after you close the book. Desire, sex, intrigue and
betrayal…this book has it all." ~
NightOwl Romance

“Wickedly witty writing and wonderfully
entertaining characters are the key ingredients in (this) sinfully
sexy historical romance, which touches shrewdly on many key
elements of the Victorian era, from extreme decorum to empire
building to passions for the classical past, science (including
anatomy), and art.” ~
Booklist

Ms. Marlowe “has penned a great story and
historical fans will want to pick this title up. It gives you a
little bit of everything from intrigue to murder to love." ~
The
Romance Reader Connection

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any
information storage and retrieval system, without the written
permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

This story was first published in 2008 as
Pleasuring the Pirate.
It has since been revised and updated
and I’m delighted to offer it to you afresh now as a
Rock*It
Reads
e-book.

It’s the story of a prodigal pirate who
comes home to Cornwall only to discover that the father with whom
he hoped to reconcile has died, along with his older brother.
Gabriel Drake
suddenly finds himself elevated to lord of the
manor with the added complication of being responsible for his five
orphaned nieces. I like to think of this story as “Pirates of the
Caribbean meets Father Goose!”

He’s also obliged to wed, bed and breed an
heir on a well-born lady as soon as possible to secure the barony
or it will devolved to the Crown. Since Gabriel’s pardon for piracy
is predicated on him not entering the city of London, he can’t
pursue a bride in typical marriage mart fashion. And the fact that
he only wants Jacquelyn Wren, the bastard daughter of a courtesan
who couldn’t possibly satisfy the King’s requirements to become his
baroness, only complicates matters. Toss in the search for a
dragon’s hoard of gold hidden somewhere in his castle and his 5
mischievous nieces and Gabriel’s hands are full.

I hope you enjoy my pirate hero. As always,
I’d love to hear from YOU! Please feel free to contact me through
my website, or catch me on Facebook or Twitter!

Happy Reading,

Mia

http://www.miamarlowe.com

http://facebook.com/MiaMarloweFanPage

http://twitter.com/mia_marlowe

At His Majesty’s good pleasure, this Letter
of Marque is presented to one Captain Gabriel Drake. Be it known to
all that the crimes of the aforementioned mariner are herewith
pardoned. However, should the bearer of this Letter of Marque be
hereafter found within the precincts of London, said pardon shall
be void and the standing sentence to which Gabriel Drake is
condemned shall be administered forthwith without trial and without
further clemency on the part of His Royal Majesty.

Duly signed and witnessed

this 12
^th
day of June in the

Year of Our Lord 1720.

Sir Cecil Oddbody

Keeper of the King’s Privy Seal

‘
The next time I decide to kill a man, I
really need to find better help.’

Jacquelyn Wren struggled toward
consciousness, but pain blocked her way. She sank back into
oblivion with dreamlike slowness, as though it wasn’t her body
lying beside the dusty Cornish road. She lightly skimmed the
surface of blackness, ready to plunge downward again, when the
voices above her began to make sense.

“No more than a whelp,” a deep baritone said
with disgust.

“Dead?” another voice asked, the tone reedy
and unabashedly cheerful.

Work-roughened fingers searched for the pulse
point below her jaw line. “Not yet.”

Jacquelyn hardly dared breathe.

“No blood so far as I can tell, but he took a
wallop. Look at that goose egg. Still, we may get some answers from
him.” A booted foot nudged her hip. “Wake up, lad.”

Lad.
At least her disguise still held.
Her eyes rolled in their sockets before she forced her lids open. A
stab of sunlight made her squeeze them closed again. Her head
pounded in tandem with her heart.

“Rum, Meri.” A snap of his fingers punctuated
the command.

“There’s no call to waste good rum on—”

“Whose rum is it, Mr. Meriwether?”

Jacquelyn peered from beneath her brown
lashes. Grumbling under his breath, the one called Meri fished a
silver flask from the gelding’s saddlebag and handed it over. The
other one, the one whose strong arms forced her to sit up, the one
she loathed with every fiber of her being, held the drink to her
lips.

“Steady now. Not too fast,” he urged. “This
rum’s raw enough to put hair on your chest.”

The spirits burned down her gullet. When she
choked and sputtered, he pulled the flask away. She didn’t dare
look up at him.

He was coming to destroy her life and the
lives of all she held dear. She didn’t want to see his face up so
close.

Not until she had a sword in her hand.

“Well, lookee there, Cap’n. He’s still in the
land of the living, after all. Must have just had the breath
knocked from him, I warrant. Good. I like me boy’s livers fresh.”
Meriwether flashed a wolfish grin. “Pity we’ve no onions to fry up
with it.”

She’d been warned the new lord and his
minions were heartless and utterly without conscience. She felt
blood draining from her face. She was probably blanching white as a
fish belly.

Damn her weakness! Why hadn’t she been born a
man?

“You aren’t really going to eat my liver.”
She tried to sound sure about it, but her voice broke with a
squeak.

“I won’t,” he promised. “But Mr. Meriwether
spent longer in the Caribbee than I. He has peculiar tastes. But if
you tell me what I want to know, I’ll make certain your liver stays
where it is. Now what’s your name?”

She needed time to gather her wits. Keeping
her eyes downcast, she wobbled to her feet. A sword lay a bare five
feet away, the hilt faced toward her.

“J-Jack,” she stammered as she edged toward
the weapon. “I’m called Jack.”

“Very well, Jack,” he said. “You were with
that lot that tried to waylay us, and that makes me indisposed to
mercy, but this is your opportunity to can make amends.”

With
them? She’d tried to
lead
them, but her last fuzzy memory was one of the oafs clobbering her
senseless with his sharp elbow as he drew his sword. The wretches
professed to be experienced assassins and the royal seal on the
papers they flashed about gave their claims the ring of truth. The
ruffians must have grown wings since their initial assault failed.
There was no sign of them now.

“I’m willing to believe you fell in with bad
company sort of accidental like,” the captain went on.

“Aye, ‘tis easy enough to fall in with
villains, bad company being so much more pleasurable than good
company as a general rule,” Meriwether chimed in. “And who should
know better’n you, Cap’n?”

“In any case, I’m willing to do you a good
turn for an evil one,” he said. “Will you help me then, Jack?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, pulling
the ill-fitting smock-shirt tight around her form, trying to seem
as if she were weighing her options. She glanced at Meri, who was
now picking rocks from his horse’s hooves, totally disinterested in
her since it appeared his captain wasn’t going to let him cook her
liver.

This might be her only chance.

“Aye, I’ll help you.” She dove for the sword
and by some miracle came up with the hilt in her hand. “I’ll help
you on your way to Hell.” Remembering her training with Dragon
Caern’s master-at-arms, she brought the blade up in a glittering
arc, trusting to surprise for success.

She only managed to catch a corner of his hat
and knock it off his head.

Quick as an adder, his sword was out and
facing her down. He was much bigger than she expected. He stood a
hand’s width more than six feet and carried fifteen stone in
weight. Most of it looked to be in work-hardened muscle.

Jacquelyn swallowed hard. The folk of Dragon
Caern depended on her to make good decisions. Clearly, this was not
one of her finest.

She’d imagined the new lord would be
whey-faced, powdered and perfumed, slightly effeminate in the
manner of most courtly folk. But this man’s face was bronzed the
color of oiled cedar and there was nothing the least soft about
him. Something inside her rebelled at the injustice. He had no
right to such a strong-boned handsome face. Not with as black a
heart as he was rumored to possess. She felt a surge of triumph
when a trio of red beads appeared on his smooth-shaven chin. He
wiped them off and gave her a mocking bow.

“First blood to you then, Jack.”

Meri chuckled. “And I was a-feared life as a
landsman would be dull.”

Circling, the captain retrieved his fallen
hat. The tip of his sword never dipped as he slapped the tricorn
against his thigh, sending small clouds of dust puffing. The
cockade and plume were decidedly worse for the wear but he cocked
the hat on his head at a rakish angle.

“I don’t think you want to do this, boy,” he
warned.

The fine brocade frock coat and velvet
breeches bespoke him a gentleman, but his dark eyes glinted beneath
his darker brows, feral and cold as a dragon.

The dragon that would devour her world, the
note with the royal seal had promised. She clenched her teeth and
gripped the hilt of her sword all the tighter. “Oh, yes, I do.”

“Me thanks to ye, Jackie-boy. Cap’n Gabriel
wagered that anyone who wished him bodily harm was still sailing
the Spanish Main.” Meri settled on a rock to watch the combatants
in comfort. “I recollect he hazarded fifty sovereigns on the
matter.”

A wry grin lifted one corner of Gabriel’s
mouth.

“Apparently, I lose.” The smile faded. “But I
must warn you, Jack. I don’t make a habit of it.”

“Don’t worry,” Jacquelyn said with more
bravado than she felt. “I don’t intend for you to live long enough
to get used to losing.”

She lunged at him, swinging her blade with
all the spite she possessed.

* * *

Gabriel parried the stroke with economy of
movement. “Bad form. Is it a lesson you’re wanting then?”

“No, ‘tis your head I’m after.”

“Don’t think I can accommodate you. I’m
rather attached to my head.” Despite the dirty face, there was no
disguising the delicacy of Jack’s features. Gabriel narrowed his
eyes in speculation. Jack was definitely female.

A wickedly angry female.

She recovered from her initial blunder and
launched a fresh assault that showed some skill with a blade.

“Better,” he said as they danced with steel.
He followed the praise with a rumbling chuckle. “Keep your knees
bent.”

“Keep your teeth together,” Jack said hotly,
cheeks flaming.

The livid blush made her pink mouth seem all
the more ripe for the taking. Even with her spitfire temper, he
wanted a taste of her.

A unique combination of strokes forced
Gabriel to jerk his attention back to her blade. Her lips might
look sweet as honey, but her sword arm carried a sting. Did she
think hiding her sex under boy’s rags would make it easier for her
to attack him? Gabe would play along for the time being. Uncovering
the truth of the matter might prove amusing.

“You take too many chances, Jack.” He
side-stepped her rushing blow and whacked her on the backside with
the flat of his blade. Not hard enough to truly hurt her, but he
knew a rap like that smarted like the dickens.