JAKrentz - The Pirate, The Adventurer, & The Cowboy

v1.0

July 2006

The Pirate

Ladies and Legends 1

Jayne Ann Krentz

He was the man in her dreams

 The one who had haunted her all these years; the one she put into every book she wrote. Jared was her pirate; fierce, tender, passionate and proud. The shock of recognition made Kate shiver.

"What's wrong?" Jared stirred lazily, turning onto his back. He looked up at her with eyes that gleamed with the banked embers of a fire that had been only temporarily quenched.

"Nothing's wrong. It's just that I've had this odd feeling I know you."

"You do know me. You said I was perfect. Your very words."

She laughed softly. "I'm not sure you can hold me responsible for that remark. I was under the influence of raging hormones at the time."

"If that's the way you're going to be about it, I'll just have to enrage your hormones until you say it again." He shifted, rolling her beneath him. "And again and again…"

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

ISBN 1-55166-437-2

THE PIRATE

Copyright © 1990 by Jayne Ann Krentz.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

For Debbie Macomber, a generous friend who doesn't mind sharing a nifty idea

PROLOGUE

^
»

"N
o, absolutely not. You cannot make me get on that plane. I won't go." Katherine Inskip braced herself in her chair and glared at the two women across the small table. Behind her, the glass panes of the airport lounge window vibrated as a jet roared past on the runway, then climbed into cloudy
Seattle skies. "There are laws against this sort of thing. This is illegal impressment or something. You can't do it."

"Save the drama for your next book, Kate. You are going to board that plane in fifteen minutes." Margaret Lark, sleek and cool as always, checked the expensive black-and-gold watch on her wrist. Her voice was calm and authoritative. She had spent several years in the corporate world and could still dominate a meeting when the occasion arose. "Sarah and I have discussed the matter thoroughly and we both agree that you need a vacation. Your doctor has told you that you need a vacation. Even your agent said it might not be a bad idea and you know things are bad when your agent thinks you should take a little time off work."

"It's true, Kate. You know it is." Sarah Fleetwood, on the same side of the table and the argument as Margaret, smiled gently, her fey eyes soft with concern. "You're much too tense and nervous lately. You've said yourself that you're not sleeping well. And your appetite is fading. Why, you haven't felt like making pizza or tacos for weeks, and that's not like you. It's the stress. You've got to do something about it."

Kate scowled at her. "So what if I'm a little stressed? I've just come off a ten-day, ten-city book promotion tour. What do you expect? I'm tired, that's all."

"It's more than just jet lag from the tour," Margaret said. "It's been building up for some time. Kate, you've become a workaholic and if you don't take care of yourself, you're going to pay a price."

"What's wrong with being a workaholic? I like my work. In fact, I love it. You know I do. I'm not happy unless I'm writing. I'll go nuts if you take me away from it."

"There's nothing wrong with enjoying your writing," Sarah assured her in soothing tones. "Margaret and I love writing, too. That's not the point."

"Well, what is the point?" Kate demanded, feeling cornered. "I'm happy just the way I am, I tell you. Happy, do you hear me?" She slapped the small table for emphasis. "I've never been so damned happy."

"The point is that you need to start leading a more balanced life," Margaret announced. "You've been going at a hundred-mile-an-hour pace for far too long. Since your divorce, in fact. You need a break and now that
Buccaneer's Bride is
safely on the stands, you can afford the time to take one. Trust me on this, Kate. When I was working in the business world, I saw plenty of examples of what overwork and stress can do to people. Not a pretty sight." She dug an airline ticket envelope out of her black Italian-leather handbag. "You need to learn how to take time out to relax and enjoy life."

"And
Amethyst
Island
sounds like the perfect place for you to do just that," Sarah announced. Her unsettlingly insightful gaze rested on Kate's set face for a few seconds. Then she reached out and took the ticket envelope from Margaret and pushed it into Kate's fingers. "Margaret and I have looked into this thoroughly. The place has everything: palm trees, warm, tropical seas, a first-class luxury resort, papayas, coconuts…"

"I hate coconuts," Kate pointed out desperately. "You know I do. Remember how I wouldn't eat any of those cookies you made last week because they had those yucky little bits of coconut in them?"

"So you'll eat papaya, instead," Margaret said with a shrug. She glanced at her watch again and stood up, slender and chic in her tailored blazer and fine wool slacks. "Time to head for the departure lounge."

Sarah jumped up beside Margaret, boundless enthusiasm lighting her elfin features. "On your feet, kiddo. You're on your way to paradise and you're going to love it. I just know it."

Kate looked up at her beseechingly and knew she was defeated. It was sometimes possible to argue logically with Margaret, but when Sarah got that expression of intuitive certainty in her deep, knowing hazel eyes, nothing could change her mind. Small, delicate and vibrant, Sarah always made Kate think of a brightly plumed hummingbird. Today, dressed in a lemon-yellow sweater and black-and-white striped jeans, she looked more than ever like some small, exotic bird.

"Sarah, I know you and Margaret mean well, but…"

Sarah took Kate's arm and hauled her to her feet. "Just think of what's waiting for you, friend. You're heading for genuine pirate territory. The real thing. Just like a setting from one of your books. Margaret did the research on this, and she says it's the place for you. You know how accurate Margaret is with her research."

A gnawing sense of fatalism settled over Kate. Sarah was right—Margaret's research was always impeccable. It was one of the things that lent real power to her friend's sophisticated stories of love and intrigue amid the jungles of the modern corporate world.

"And Margaret says
Amethyst
Island
actually has a ruined castle left over from the days when a real live buccaneer lived there," Sarah went on cheerfully.

"A castle?" Kate was intrigued in spite of herself. Sarah had her halfway down the corridor now, plowing along in Margaret's elegant wake. "This island has a castle on it?"

"That's right. And a history of violence and lust. Just think, Kate, you're going to be able to explore a genuine pirate hideaway. No telling what sorts of bloody deeds were done there in the last century. Think of the atmosphere you'll soak up."

"What is this about lust?" Kate asked.

Sarah waved an airy hand. "Oh, there's some legend about how the pirate king who settled the island went back to
England once, kidnapped his bride and took her away to the
South Seas. I don't know all the details. I write contemporary romantic suspense, not historical romance, remember?"

"He kidnapped his bride?" Clutching the ticket envelope more tightly, Kate allowed herself to be thrust into the crowd of people milling about at the boarding gate. "What pirate? Which legend? I never heard of any stories about
Amethyst
Island
. In fact, I've never even heard of
Amethyst
Island
."

Margaret smiled and impulsively hugged her friend in farewell. "It's part of a small chain in the South Pacific called the
Jewel
Islands
. You'll have plenty of time to find out all about the place. Have a wonderful time, Kate. When you come back, you'll feel like a new woman."

Alarm flared through Kate as the crowd caught her up and carried her toward the jetway. "Wait. What's this about lots of time? When am I coming back? How long am I to be banished to a tropical island, for heaven's sake?"

"You've got reservations for a month at the only resort on the island," Sarah called out just as Kate got hustled through the doorway.

"A
month
? Good grief, that's forever. I'll be bored to tears. I'll be crawling the walls. I'll be a basket case by the time I get back. And it'll cost a fortune. Neither of you can afford to send me away for a month."

"We put the whole thing on your bank charge card," Margaret assured her.

"Oh, Lord, talk about stress," Kate wailed. "I'll never recover."

Sarah chuckled. "Send us a postcard."

Margaret waved farewell. An instant later, Kate lost sight of both women as she was swept up and carried down the ramp to the open door of the waiting jet.

Back in the departure lounge, Margaret frowned with faint concern. "I hope we did the right thing."

"We did," Sarah said with cheerful certainty as they both turned to walk back through the bustling terminal. "I have a feeling about this
Amethyst
Island
. As soon as you found out about it from the travel agent, I knew it was the right place to send Kate."

"You and your intuition."

"My intuition hasn't been known to fail yet." Sarah halted abruptly in front of a newsstand and grinned at a display of paperbacks.

One book stood out from all the rest on the rack. Its cover, lush and colorful, featured a powerful, good-looking man dressed in a wide-sleeved shirt that was open to the waist to display an impressive chest. A lethal-looking dagger was thrust into his belt. Locked in his fierce, passionate embrace was a fiery-haired woman clad in a diaphanous gown. The backdrop featured a misty view of a tropical island and a ship with billowing sails. The title, picked out in gold, was
Buccaneer's Bride
. Stamped across the top of the book in bold script was the author's name, Katherine Inskip.