Lady Pirate (24 page)

“Warmed spiced rum?” Daniel asked curiously, accepting the cup Henry lifted off the tray and handed to him.

“Aye. They're real tasty and warm the stomach, helping a body to relax.” He took a cup off the tray himself, nodded at the other man, who immediately turned to leave, then seated himself across from Daniel. He smiled at him over his own cup as he lifted it for a sip. “Try it. Ye've never had anything like it.”

Valoree felt like hell. Her mouth was as dry as Jasper's smile, and her head felt like it was splitting in half. She was pretty sure of that. Grasping it in both hands, she held on to it tightly, just to make sure her brains didn't fall out. Then she slowly, carefully opened her eyes—only to blink them closed again rather quickly. She'd died and gone to hell for her sins. That was the only explanation for the burning blur of light that attacked her eyes upon opening them.

Groaning, she tried to lie still for a moment, then realized that it wasn't
her
moving; it was the bed.
Dear
Lord!
Someone or something was moving the bed about while she lay on it. Forcing her eyes open, again, she raised herself up on her elbows and squinted about in the hope of discovering who it was, only to find there was no one there. It didn't take her poor woolly mind more than a minute or two after that before she realized that the bed she lay in wasn't the huge four-poster from the town house, but the wee hard cot of a ship. Her ship. She was on the
Valor
, and that was what was moving.

How the devil had she gotten here? she wondered, dropping weakly back onto her bunk. The last thing she remembered was…
Hmmm. What was the last—Oh, aye! Beecham!
She had been about to arrange things with Beecham. That was it. But then Meg had come in, and then Henry and Petey had brought the tea. Only it hadn't been tea. At least hers hadn't been. Henry had fixed her some of his special hot spiced rum and—

Her eyes blinking open again abruptly, she rose up in the bed like the resurrected dead, roaring at the top of her lungs.
“Henry!”

 

“So you decided to kidnap the two of us and
force
us to wed?” Daniel asked in disbelief.

Henry shifted. He stood a few feet from the bed, where Daniel now sat rubbing his sore head. “Aye. Well, she's too damned stubborn to marry ye elsewise, and you two belong together. Ye're perfect for each other. Just being around ye has softened her up some already. And ye need a woman who will be a challenge, else ye'd lose interest right quick.”

Daniel raised his head to stare at him. “You know so much about me in such a short time?”

Henry shrugged. “Ye learn to take the measure of folk right quick in our line of work.”

“Speaking of which, what exactly
is
your line of
work?” Daniel asked silkily. Henry pursed his lips, considering the matter briefly, then shook his head.

“I think I'll just let you and the captain sort that one out.”

Daniel grunted, then pressed his hands to either side of his head. “What the hell was in that damn drink you gave me?”

“Head's bothering ye, huh?” Henry asked solicitously.

Daniel impaled him with his eyes, then suddenly frowned as a thought occurred to him. “How did you get me out of the town house without my driver causing an uproar?”

“In a chest.”

“A chest?” Daniel cried.

“Aye.” Henry grimaced at his upset. “We put ye in Valoree's dress chest and carted ye out.”

“And Valoree?” he asked dryly.

“We wrapped her in a tapestry.”

“Great, I…” Daniel began, then paused as a sudden bellow, not unlike the sound a wounded bear might make, reached them from the next cabin. “Correct me if I am wrong,” he murmured with sudden amusement, “but I do believe that was
your
name she was singing out in her
soft
voice.”

Henry's mouth tightened, his eyes narrowing on Daniel at the comment; then he sighed and turned toward the door.

“Just a moment.” Daniel stood, grabbing at the nearest item at hand to steady himself. It turned out to be a chair. He waited until the other man had turned back questioningly, then said, “Whatever you gave me has left me with a weak stomach. If I do not get out on deck and breathe some fresh air soon, you will be sending someone in here to scrape the contents of my stomach off the floor.”

“Go ahead,” Henry told him. “Ye're not a prisoner.
Ye're a guest.” Then he left, closing the door behind him.

Daniel stared at the door in amazement for a moment, then shook his head. “A guest. Of course. I do not know why I thought otherwise.” Shrugging, he started cautiously across the floor.

 

Henry wasn't quick enough. Valoree was off the bed and on her third shout for the man by the time her cabin door opened and he stuck his head warily inside. Spying her standing, grasping the edge of her desk for balance as she tried to shake off the last of the effects of the drug he had given her, the man forced an innocent smile. “Aye, Captain?”

“Don't you ‘Aye, Captain' me, you—” she began, taking a threatening step toward him; then she paused to grasp the desk again as the room swayed dangerously about her. “What have you done?” she snapped. Then, before he could answer: “Never mind that. I can see what you've done. Well, it won't work. How far out of port are we?”

Henry didn't question how she knew they had left the London docks. She had lived on a boat long enough to tell the difference between the relative calm of a harbor and the roll of the sea. “About a day out,” he admitted. Her mouth tightened.

“Well, you get your arse up there and tell them to turn the ship around. We're going back!”

“Ah, now, captain-girl,” he started in a wheedling tone. It died as her gaze narrowed on him.

“Stow it, Henry. I'm so mad at you I could—” She almost seemed to choke on her anger, then waved him away in disgust. “Get out! I'll give the orders myself. But know this, Henry: you men haven't stopped anything. I
will
return and I
will
marry Beecham. All you've managed to do is delay it.”

Henry hesitated, then twisted and backed out of the
cabin, closing the door quietly behind him.

Muttering under her breath several things she would like to do to the man, Valoree made her way cautiously to the chest by the bed and knelt beside it. Throwing it open, she rifled through it briefly until she found her knee breeches, white shirt, boots, belt, and short waistcoat, then began to undress where she sat, transforming from Lady Ainsley into Captain Valerian in a matter of moments. Then she crawled back to her feet and stumbled for the door, pausing only to grab up her cutlass, knife, and pistol on the way. She needed some fresh air, or she'd surely puke up whatever it was Henry had put in her drink—if there was anything left in her stomach to heave out, which was doubtful.

She felt better the moment she stepped out onto the deck. The roiling in her stomach died an abrupt death as she turned her face up to the sun and drew fresh sea air into her lungs. She had missed this like a starving man misses food. Fresh clean breezes, not the foul-smelling, polluted air in London. And the constant overwhelming racket that was the city: the rattle of wagons, the clip-clop of horses, the shouts of vendors selling their wares. None of that assaulted her ears. Here there was only the clang of the rigging, the sound of the waves hitting the hull, the whisper of the breeze, and the flap of the sails. Dear Lord, how she had missed this. Maybe she wouldn't punish the men too harshly for this action, after all. Maybe she could forgive them this. She already felt rejuvenated after only a few moments. And it was only a two-day delay of her plans.

Aye, she decided, a peaceful smile curving her lips as she peered around at the crew, who all watched her with wary attention. She would…hang them all by their damn toes from the rigging!

“What the hell is
he
doing here!” she roared, her gaze having found and frozen on Daniel.

In the silence that followed her cry, Daniel merely smiled at her crookedly. “Back-from-the-Dead Red, I presume?”

Valoree's eyes widened on the man calmly crossing the deck toward her, dressed in only a shirt and breeches, his hair a bit mussed, and a charming smile on his face. He was as handsome and appealing as she had ever seen him. Her heart turned over in her chest.

“Bull,” she said calmly.

“Aye.” The tall man was at her side at once.

“Take Lord Thurborne up to the crow's nest and hang him.”

Daniel gaped at her in the brief silence that followed, hardly noticing how pale she had suddenly gone, or that her hands were clenched into tight fists, knowing only that she had just sentenced him to death.

“Ye can't be hanging him!” Henry cried in dismay.

“Aye!” One-Eye backed the quartermaster up. “We brought him here to marry ye!”

She silenced the men with a gesture, then turned, her expression as smooth and emotionless as stone. “I am still the captain of this ship, unless you men want to vote me out of the position right now. And, as captain, it is my job to see to your safety—even if you idiots are too damn stupid to tend to it yourself!”

“Now just a danged minute! We—”

“You brought one of the king's spies aboard ship. Specifically, the very one the king assigned the task of finding and bringing in Back-from-the-Dead Red and his crew.”

There was a sudden silence at that, uncertainty beginning to show on every face.

“And, that is about as far from intelligent as I want to see you men get.”

“Spy?” Henry said after a moment. “Are ye sure?”

“Aye. Beecham told me last night. Or the other day. Whatever damn day it was that you perpetrated this
ridiculous folly. He was the king's assessor in the Caribbean. He was the only one besides the king who knew what Jeremy looked like, and his true identity. He was sent to track us down. Now”—she turned to Bull—“do as I say. And do it quick. And make sure his neck breaks when you throw him over; I don't want him to suffer. None of this is his fault.”

Nodding unhappily, the man grabbed for Daniel.

“Now just a damn minute,” Daniel snapped, dodging. “I was the king's assessor, that is true, but I am not to bring you in, just question you.”

He stopped talking and concentrated on struggling with Bull as the larger man tried to grab him. In the end, others had to step forward to help. It took eight men to entirely subdue him. They ended up having to tie his hands behind his back and his feet together so that Bull could sling him over his shoulder and cart him toward the main mast. One-Eye and Jackson followed.

 

“Never mind none. She won't be hanging ye,” One-Eye whispered as they neared the mast. “She's just letting off some steam. The captain has a bit of a temper.”

Bull shrugged his shoulder, getting a better grip on Daniel before rumbling, “One-Eye's right enough on that. She'll let us get ye up there and all; then old Henry will talk her some sense. Then she'll change her mind. Happens all the time.”

“She often decides to have people killed?” Daniel asked incredulously as he bobbed on Bull's shoulder, then lifted his head to try to avoid knocking it repeatedly against the man's wide back.

“Nay,” One-Eye admitted reluctantly. “As far as I can recall, she's never ordered it afore.” When Daniel cursed at that, he added calmly, “But then that just proves what I'm saying. She's not ordered anyone
killed ere now, so she's not likely to start with you. She likes you.”

“You could have fooled me,” Daniel said, letting his head drop down again wearily. The muscles in his neck were beginning to ache from holding his head at such an awkward angle.

“I don't know, One-Eye,” the other fellow trailing argued. “She looked pretty riled to me. 'Sides, ye're wrong, she has so ordered someone killed. Twice now.”

“She did not,” One-Eye denied.

“Aye, she did. Lemmy and Jake. They was hung, then tossed overboard for shark bait.”

One-Eye's mouth tightened grimly. “Those were the rules, Jackson. We all know the rules. We were told 'em ere we ever signed up. Yer to leave ‘prudent women' alone if they're unwilling, else yer done in. We all know that.”

“Aye,” Jackson agreed with disgust, then turned to Daniel's bouncing head to explain, “It's a woman thing. She's a woman, so she hands out harsh punishment against a man who messes with women.”

“It's
not
a woman thing,” One-Eye snapped impatiently. “That rule was made by her brother when he ran the ship. He got it from the rules of Captain John Philips. It's not a woman thing at all. 'Tain't decent to be forcing somethin' on a lady that she don't want, and if ye're having to be told that, ye'll most like be hanging from the crow's nest someday, too. Ain't you got a sister or nothing?”

“No.”

“What of a mother? I know ye gots one of them. Everyone has one of them. How would ye like to go to visit her one day and find some snake trying to force hisself on her?”

Jackson shrugged. “I'd be asking what she was doing letting him in the house in the first place.”

“Aye, he'll be hanging from the crow's nest someday,” Bull rumbled grimly.

“And just like she did for Lemmy and Jake, she'll simply say, ‘You know what must be done,' then leave and wait in her cabin,” One-Eye predicted. He peered down at Daniel and explained. “She's got no stomach for killing. It's why I'm sure she ain't really meaning to hang ye. She ain't gone to her cabin. She's still standing on the deck, letting Henry yammer at her. She's just sharpening her spleen some. Ye'll see.”

Daniel fervently hoped so as the man called Bull lugged him up the rope ladder toward the crow's nest above. Tied and trussed as he was, fighting was no longer an option. His life was fully in the hands, and at the whim, of the woman standing on the deck below watching them. Daniel's life had never been in any but his own hands before. Not another human's, anyway. It was a new experience—one he didn't like very much. Not very much at all.

“Here we are,” One-Eye announced as Bull set Daniel down. The man said it as cheerfully as if they had just arrived at the theater.