My Bonny Heart (Pirate's Progeny Book 1) (2 page)

“You’ve no way to speak, have you?”

He shook his head, his blue eyes shining in the moonlight. She nodded, thankful for the returning memory.

“I remember you. My father employed you to make certain his warehouse stayed protected, aye? A security precaution, if I remember correctly.” He was old enough to be her father, but terrifying to anyone caught sneaking around her father’s property.

Again, he nodded. As he rowed their little vessel closer, she tried to remember his name. No luck there. Asking him would provide no results, so she remained quiet.

She allowed herself the luxury of watching the ship looming over them. No barnacles clung to the large hull as the ship bobbed on the water. The masts and railings newly polished and glistening with the moonlight.

Anne appreciated the cleanliness of her. Neither the colors flying above her, nor the ship, sparked any memory. Yet, she permitted the deck hands to hoist her up onto the deck by the rope dangling over the side. Worrying about her babes, she yelled to the closest ship member to find a basket or large bucket to lower down to retrieve them. He eyed her strangely, but ran off when another crewmate bellowed. “Now!”

Moments later, a wooden crate was secured to a rope and lowered to quiet man, who the bellowing crewman called, Raphael.

Anne peered over the side to see her rescuer place the babes with care inside the crate, and tug on the rope to ensure its stability. Two mates served as the lever to hoist the baby-laden crate to the top, and bellower’s strong hands expertly set the crate upon the deck before her. The rocking motion of the dinghy and the ascent up to the ship had kept them asleep. With quick skill, Raphael then climbed the ladder his mates tossed down to him. Impressed, she waited with bated breath until his feet hit the deck and he could handle the weight of the crate, which he did without request.

“This way, Miss.” A young lad beckoned her and Raphael to the center of the ship, where she knew a cabin awaited her, and perhaps her father.

When the lad opened the door to her cabin, she found the room empty, but inviting as it swayed with the lapping waves. A lone candle burned on the small table in the center of the room, anchored down as most furniture needed to be aboard ship. It illuminated a generous bed, two chairs, the table, and a small desk in the corner.

Raphael laid the crate with gentle ease on the floor before the table, so contradictory of his big size and general intimidating demeanor. His crystal eyes met hers before he nodded and walked past her.

Anne flinched as the door shut behind her, an unfortunate result of living in prison for so many months. One never knew when one of the jailers would sneak up on their charge. She shook the thought away.

She walked over to the sleeping infants, hunkering down to inspect them before transferring each to the middle of the sizable bed. Their small weight sank into the soft coverlet as she fortified the bed around them with the surrounding pillows so they might not roll onto the floor. To her surprise, Frederica and Garrett slumbered throughout her maneuvering of them on the bed. With trembling hands, she smoothed out their blankets, safeguarding them from any chill that might be in the air. She noticed dirt caked beneath her fingernails, and frowned. She realized, too, the sparse smock she wore contained many holes. She must look a fright.

Reaching in the front pocket of her meager attire, she retrieved the parchment Raphael had passed to her in the cell. The wax version of the Cormac family emblem sealed its edges. She ripped it open, her eyes soaking up the dignified scrawl within.

Anne,

These men, and others who have the authority, have been compensated, quite handsomely, for the removal of your person from Port Royal. You shall be transported to the Carolinas and to a new life and circumstance. I do this not for you, but for the child who has been rescued from Cuba and awaits his mother.

You shall no longer associate as a pirate or my daughter, but as Mrs. Anne Morgan, widow, and my niece. You shall follow Raphael to a new home. I will deliver instructions further once you arrive.

Please incinerate this correspondence for it is not good sense to want known your whereabouts.

Regards,

William Cormac

Tears streamed down her face as she read and re-read the letter. Her father had answered her prayers. She would live out her days as a widow and raise her children. Even her eldest son awaited her.

The letter crumpled as she clutched it to her chest. She vowed to never go astray again. Never fall in love again. Her children needed a mother, and she needed her children.

Touching the edge of the parchment to the candle flame, it burned in the pan below. The pirate life and all accompanying attachments were now behind her.

In the ashes lay her past.

She just prayed her past remained there.

Chapter 2

A peaceful fortnight had come and gone. Anne found herself, the babes Garrett and Frederica, on a longboat with Raphael, and two of her father’s men manning the oars. The boat sliced through the water of the Ashley River headed for her new home outside of Charles Town.

Three hours earlier, her father’s ship had docked in the harbor, which she was all too familiar with, having visited a few of the taverns with Jack and the rest of the crew. But, as she stared at the scenery along the river, it was unfamiliar and lush. Once beyond the gated walls of Charles Town and in the swampy, wild, river area, she found herself wondering to what type of establishment her father had sent her. Some wilderness homestead surrounded by the Indians?

A small coo sounded from one of the baskets on the plank on which she sat, interrupting her dire imaginings of living among the red-skinned natives of the area. Frederica talked in her own language, reminding Anne of her presence.

She leaned forward, pulling back a light cloth covering, and stared down at the little lass. “I’m here, sweeting.”

The sea journey had given her the benefit of bonding more with the twins—as she had taken to calling the babies. Used to being closer to the helm during such a long crossing, she'd been content to just enjoy the swaying of the ship. It had given her some much needed peace, and time with her youngest progeny.

They looked nothing alike of course, having different sets of parents, but had been born mere days apart.

She removed the cloth from the other basket and peeked at Garrett. He had a dark, chestnut mop of hair, dimples in both cheeks, and bright, emerald eyes. Frederica’s dark head of wild hair swirled, curls everywhere. She had eyes the color of the ship’s hull, a rich brown that made her rounded face softer in the light.

Anne smiled, and wiped a hand across her brow as she set the light cloth over the baskets once more. The humidity here resembled that in Jamaica, but was not unbearable. She was certainly used to sweat. Nerves frayed just a bit, her hands trembled as she smoothed the light green, cotton dress she wore. She’d twisted her rebellious hair into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, a familiar state for the uncontrollable locks.

Not used to wearing any garments remotely ladylike for many years, the few dresses she'd found in a trunk for her were common for the ladies to wear. She felt foreign in them, but at least she could wear boots beneath. Her breasts were near to bursting from the top due to the tightness of her corset. But, her father had not known she’d given birth recently, and her chest had grown in size.

A giggle escaped her as she remembered Raphael’s grumpy look as she’d asked him to lace up the corset for her. To think he’d signed up as a maid had him narrowing his eyes at her. She’d assured him with a quick frown that this would be the only time he’d need to perform such a task. She’d had the bos’n help her with future female burdens. The lad had been happy to help.

The fit of the rest of the gown molded to her quite nicely. She’d lost quite a bit of her middle section due to her recent stay in Port Royal. Her legs and arms had lost a bit of the muscle she’d built up over the years. The prison meals were sparser than most, but at least their intent had not been for her to starve. Not having a nursemaid readily available, she’d been allowed to feed the babies at least. Her height hadn't changed much either since she’d come of age at sixteen, and she was now twenty-one.

Anxiety had her biting upon her bottom lip. She had no idea what awaited her, or where they would live, but excitement settled in her belly at seeing and holding Holt.

He would be three now. She’d left him with a friend in Cuba when she knew she could not care for him. A ship full of cutthroats and questionable characters was no place for her child. So, she had shed tears, but in the end had done the right thing for her son. She promised to come back for him, but acquiring a sizable fortune before returning—and her predicament in Port Royal—had proven to be a long time.

Pirating these days was a deadly business, as she had been well-accustomed before her imprisonment.

With a shake of her head, she vowed to be a good citizen. To wear whatever the Charles Town ladies wore these days. To behave as a proper widow, and to raise her three children.

Her infamous temper, and a reluctance to conform to society, would make proper behavior her biggest challenge. But, she would attempt it for her children.

The new identity of a widow would ensure her status as a woman who had no need of a man, and would allow her freedom to do as she pleased.

Conforming should not be so hard, right?

She just may kiss her father when next she saw him for plotting this entire episode and giving her back her life and saving her children.

Anne chewed the side of her cheek and wondered if her father had set up a monthly stipend. How would she provide for her family? She hoped her father would notify her once she reached her destination. Patience was another of the virtues she had yet to master.

James and Artie began discussing how they would maneuver the boat to the shore, redirecting her thoughts. The small vessel eventually nestled into a small, well-worn alcove surrounded by dirt and reeds. The hull hit the shore with a modest thump.

Anne braced herself and made certain the baskets hadn't jostled too much. Pulling the blanket away from the first basket, she saw Garrett had fallen asleep, his chestnut hair swirled atop his head. She smiled and turned to Frederica, who she had fondly begun to call Freddie. Anne vowed to teach Freddie how to be honorable and brave—that a woman could do just as much, and do it better than any man.

Frederica stared up at her as she removed the coverlet, her dark eyes fixed on Anne’s face. She was beautiful, and already demonstrated a penchant for being stubborn.

“You’ll be the biggest pirate of them all, eh, Freddie?” Anne smoothed her dark curls, contentment filling her.

Raphael jumped to shore first, assisting with tying a rope about the closest tree to secure the longboat. James exited next, securing an additional rope. Her quiet rescuer returned, stood with crystal, twinkling, blue eyes, and held a hand out to take a basket. Bright sunlight filtered through the trees to shine patches of light on a dirt path, and dust motes danced in the air. The fragrant smell of magnolias permeated the space around them.

Anne placed Freddie’s basket in Raphael’s outstretched hand. He handed it to James, then reached down for Garrett’s basket. Artie left the boat and reached back to hoist her onto shore. Nothing else remained in the boat as she’d mistakenly left the other gowns aboard ship. Not wanting to impose, she’d kept quiet about turning back for them. She’d have to make do otherwise until she could purchase new ones once she set foot on dry land.

Shielding her eyes, she stepped down and took her son’s basket from Raphael. Anne expressed her gratitude to the crewman, and she and Raphael faced the dirt path before them. Raphael took Freddie’s basket from James. She nodded up at him, glad for his companionship. He was rough, calloused, scarred, and everything normal to her for the past five years. Anne knew he would protect her, not because her father had paid him, but because she could sense that he was a protector. Even he couldn't hide the twinkle in his blue eyes while he’d checked on the babies throughout their voyage.

“I am terribly thankful you are with me, Raphael.” She smiled at him as he nodded.

He motioned for her to begin moving forward. The dirt trail wound through large, gnarled oak trees and greenery. Dragonflies buzzed Raphael’s bald head on several occasions.

The forest cleared suddenly to reveal a wide expanse of open field of shortened grass, and a raised section of the lawn leading to a manor house.

Raising her eyes to the house, she stopped, stunned.

Before her, a large, three-story, manor house stood, still under construction on one end. Various colored men in light, airy clothes, carried brick, mixed mortar, and hammered. A true plantation home if ever she’d seen one, but all built of brick, and on its way to elegance and prosperity. Whitewashed windowpanes contrasted with the rust-colored brick. An inviting staircase on either side of the entrance enticed travelers arriving from the river.

The sight took her breath away.

Fields stretched behind to the east and west of the home, with servants working the long patches. It looked a little swampy and wet, but people were out there moving around. Planting? She wasn't sure, but she would guess she would soon be a widow who made her fortune in farming and trade.

Not accustomed to farming, she preferred trading, but she could learn for the sake of her children.

This was all hers? It was hard to believe her father built this grand manor for her. But, what other explanation could there be?

He’d far outdone her expectations.

He’d disowned her after she’d run off with Calico Jack Rackham while married to James Bonny. But, he’d apparently forgiven her for the sake of her son. The fact William Cormac even knew of Holt, and his whereabouts, made her brow furrow.

Many unanswered questions burned in her mind, and she’d ask them in due time. But for now, she’d allow herself the luxury of freedom and anonymity.

An imaginary weight lifted from her shoulders, and she inhaled deeply. Magnolia trees dotted the scenery and their intoxicating scent swept through her nostrils.

Shoulders squared, Anne lifted her chin and began the trek to the magnificent steps leading to the inviting door.

A gravel-lined walkway began just before the steps and the stones crunched beneath her feet as she made her way to one side of the staircase. Raphael followed along with quiet ease; the gravel crackling behind her was the only sign he followed. She climbed the steps, and rapped three times upon the ornate door.

Within moments, the door opened wide. A woman stood before her with grizzled hair and brown eyes that crinkled at the corners. Her gaze traveled from Anne’s head to the boots peeking beneath her gown. Those critical eyes finally glanced over the basket she carried with the babe inside.

Anne waited, quite used to the once-over, and raised her eyebrows to the woman.

“Who are you?” The woman was blunt, she’d give her that.

Anne smiled. The woman’s ability to get straight to the point endearing her already.

“I’m Anne. Anne Morgan. Widow.” She tried not to grin like an idiot over her most opportune new identity.

The woman gave her a squinted look, deciding whether or not she was lying.

“He said you’d have a mess of red hair. Boy, was he right. I can see it flying right out of that mess of a bun a’ yours.”

The need to run her fingers over the hair frizzing out of her bun outweighed her usual character, and Anne laughed. “Oh, I’m going to like you.” The older woman was right cheeky for a housekeeper, but cheek was a trait Anne admired.

After a stiff nod of approval, the woman stood aside and motioned Anne and Raphael inside.

The woman cracked a sudden smile, revealing a missing tooth. “Aye, your uncle hired me for that purpose. He said you needed a firm hand.”

“It’s certain he did.” Calling her father “Uncle” and being referred to as his niece would take some getting used to. But, keeping her identity a secret was worth the trouble.

Anne walked past her into the entryway, Raphael on her heels, both of them still holding a basket.

“My name’s Sarah.” She called from behind them as the door closed.

Anne eyed the entryway with appreciation. The room expanded all the way to the third floor ceiling, two grand staircases on either side led to the second and third floors. Beautifully crafted settees rested on either side of the staircases. Two large, oak doors stood beneath the steps that, she guessed, led to the main entertaining areas of the home.

“Good afternoon, Sarah.” She tilted her head to quiet man. “This is Raphael. He’ll be staying with us for a while, and he is not a servant. He’s got a great ear, but he’s not able to speak.”

Raphael nodded as Sarah sized up Anne’s hulking, menacing companion. She nodded, making a sound in her throat.

“He’s kind of scary looking, ain't he?”

Anne laughed, seeing the hint of a twinkle in Raphael’s eyes. He may have even lifted a corner of his lips to smile.

“I do believe that is the point, Sarah. Now, is this where I’ll be living? Do you have any letters for me?” She was anxious to see what her father would be instructing her to do.

“Aye, Mrs. Morgan.” She paused to rub her chin, eyeing her again. “You’ve more children before becoming a widow.”

The only way her infamy would disappear was to keep the truth hidden. Swallowing the truth she wanted to tell, and not wanting to lie to the old girl, Anne responded, “Yes, I have been blessed with two children.” She eyed Sarah with intent.

Sarah pointed at the two baskets. “There’s two babies there. A young lad upstairs. That makes three.”

Anne ground her teeth together. This was going to get messy trying to explain Freddie to everyone, but she’d not lie about it, not completely.

“Oh, aye. The baby girl was my dear friend’s daughter. We were with child together. Sadly, she died after childbirth, and I promised to care for her daughter.”

Sarah stared from one basket to the other, to Raphael, and then to Anne. She was an astute, bright woman, and determined. If she were to object to the strange persons in her entryway, Anne would not have blinked an eye. But, Sarah shrugged, then turned to the staircase on their left.

“Up those stairs, first door on your left is your sitting room. Attached to that is your bedroom.” She turned to look up at Raphael. “You will find a room down the stairs outside, and through that door at the bottom. Or, you can go through the dining room through those double doors and down the servants’ stairs. There’s an empty room at the end of the hall.”

She reached for the basket he carried. He placed it in her wrinkled hands, nodded, and left with a determined stride through the double doors.

Anne stared up the staircase, at a loss for what to do. Her pulse pounded an erratic beat, but a scream of excitement and fear lie just beneath the surface. Her father had always tried to give the best to his family, but never this splendid or extravagant. The Cormacs were not royalty by any means, but he’d made a success of himself and his trading business in Charles Town. Had he made so much in these short years to pay for all of this?