The Pirate Ruse (11 page)

“James Kelley!” Cristabel exclaimed in a whisper. “Are you attempting to convince me that your captain is some sort of rogue saint?”

“No, miss,” James said.
“I only said he don’t go wenching when we’re in port.”

“He’s a pirate, James
,” Cristabel reminded the boy as she offered the remains of her supper to him. “All pirates ever do is plunder, pillage, fairly bathe in liquor, and chase after tavern wenches.”

James shook his head, however.
“Now that ain’t fair, miss. That ain’t fair for you to say. I’m a pirate, and I don’t take spirits or chase after women,” he said.

“But Captain Navarrone is infamous for his skill in seducing even the most innocent of women,” she reminded him.

“Yes, miss.”

“Are you tell
ing me, James…that I am perfectly safe in his company?” she asked. “For he ever and always threatens to…to despoil me.”

“I ain’t saying he wouldn’t, miss,” James said.
He smiled, a purely mischievous smile. “I’m only saying he don’t go wenching while we’re in port.”

The moment of hope and safety Cristabel had experienced was vanquished.

“None of the crew does,” James added.
“Most of the men of our crew, they have families…and they’re loyal to them.”

Cristabel laughed.
Was the boy truly so naive as to believe his captain and shipmates were moral, loyal men with untarnished souls?

“It’s true, miss,” James assured her as he quickly devoured the remains of her meal.
“They have families, and though the lot of them do swallow a drink or two while we’re in New Orleans, there ain’t no wenching goes on.”

Cristabel quirked one eyebrow in lingering, p
owerful disbelief. Suddenly, an unsettling thought traveled through her mind. “Captain Navarrone the Blue Blade…he has a family? A wife…children?” For some strange reason, she felt oddly jealous. Likewise she was even more discomfited by his threats and flirtations.

James swallowed his food.
“A mother,” he answered. “No wife and little ones…but a mother.” James smiled, and Cristabel was delighted when he said, “She’s like a mother to me as well. Treats me like her own.”

“You’ve met Captain Navarrone’s mother?” she asked
—though wildly relieved to hear he did not own a wife. The boy’s story was astonishing, too astonishing to possibly hold an ounce of truth.

“Oh yes, miss!” he answered.
“Whenever we—”

“James
Kelley!” Navarrone growled from the open doorway.

“Aye, Cap’n?” James said, leaping to his feet.

“Return to your post, boy,” Navarrone ordered. The scowl on his face showed plainly his irritation with having found James in such comfortable conversation with his prisoner.

“Ay
e, Cap’n,” James said. He nodded to Cristabel, his cheeks pink with humiliation.

Cristabel watched James hurry away.
She mused he looked like a scolded puppy.

As Navarrone closed the door behind him, she began to worry that perhaps James’
s punishment for speaking so casually to her might be far more severe than she liked to imagine. Would Navarrone have the lad flogged? She could not bear the burden of knowing she may have brought the boy to such a punishment.

“He only told me you have
a mother, Captain,” she began. “Please do not harm him. He’s only a boy.”

“He’s a pirate, love,” he mumbled.
“And as such, he is subject to all the punishments any of us are.”

“But please
—” she began to plead.

“
Even Black Beard had a mother. Thus, so do I. So settle your concerns, love. I’ll not flog James Kelley for telling you I have a mother.”

Cristabel sighed with relief.
She could not have endured watching the boy be punished simply for being kind to her.

Navarrone did not stride to her—did not take his seat on a chair.
Simply, he sat down on the floor with his back against the door. His eyes narrowed as he studied her, and Cristabel began to feel overly warm. As ever, Captain Navarrone’s alluring presence disconcerted her. She considered for a moment that perhaps something was wrong with her—that she had somehow been overcome by an illness of the mind—for what decent woman experienced such an overwhelming attraction to a villain?

“Tell me, pretty pomegranate,” he began then.
His eyes narrowed as he studied her. She remained where she sat on the chaise, attempting to appear indifferent to his presence. “How wealthy is your stepfather…this William Pelletier? And from whence comes his great wealth?”

“He is very wealthy,
” she answered. “Immorally so…though I do not know from whence he derived it.” She blushed, remembering a matter included in their previous conversation. “Though you may well have stumbled upon one venue of his collecting it.”

“White slavery,” he mumbled, nodding.
“Yes…and that would perhaps explain…”

He paused
, as if he had not meant to muse aloud.

“Explain what?” she asked, however.

Navarrone sighed. Cristabel watched as his strong, squared jaw clenched and released several times. He was obviously considering whether to answer her.

“You understand that I am a pirate…that I keep what I plunder,” he said.

“Of course,” she affirmed. Yet as a tiny flicker of anxiety began to flame in her mind, she added, “Meaning things of value…not people.”

“People are of much greater value than things, love,” he told her.

Cristabel rolled her eyes. “Another moral lesson from the Blue Blade of righteousness? I only meant you do not keep people. You will not keep me.”

“I have not decided whether I will keep you,” he said.
“That remains to be seen. What events transpire in New Orleans will determine your fate. Meanwhile, I was speaking of the fact that the crew of the
Merry Wench
and I have captured a British ship…and the ship and the contents of its hold are mine to do with as I please. Do you understand?”

“Yes.
But what has that to do with—”

“
We found small barrels and crates aboard the
Chichester
,” he interrupted. “The men thought them filled with only grain and trinkets. Yet they seemed heavy to me…too weighted for mere trinkets and food stores. Therefore we opened each one…sifted through its contents.”

“And what did you discover?” she asked.

Navarrone tried not to be amused by the sudden light in her eyes—her obvious voracious curiosity.

“Jewels,” he answered. “Gems. Spanish pieces of eight…gold coin as well. A fortune, all hidden in barrels and crates marked New Orleans.”

“Do you think William was attempting to transfer his riches to
England? Perhaps planning to follow?” she asked.

Navarrone shrugged.
“I do not know what his plans were. Yet I will be interested to hear of his reaction when he discovers that the crew of the
Merry Wench
has plundered the
Chichester
. That is why I will send a boat ahead of us…to spread the news that a British ship has been captured and send a message to Governor Claiborne to schedule our meeting to discuss it. If William Pelletier is as close to the governor as you say he is, it might well be that he may manage to have himself invited to the assemblage.”

“You want to see his face when
he hears the
Chichester
’s hold is empty,” she said.

“Yes,” Navarrone confirmed.
“The governor will be so pleased by the acquisition of ship and prisoners, he will not suspect that the
Chichester
carried any more than merely the expected supplies. Yet William Pelletier—if he is the traitor behind your abduction and the owner of the treasure cached in the
Chichester
—William Pelletier will be enraged.”

“Yes!
He will!” Cristabel giggled then. Navarrone was pleased by the expression of pure delight on her face. “Oh, I wish I could see it! I would love nothing more than to witness William Pelletier being bested. Perhaps he will be so angry, he will reveal himself as a traitor before Governor Claiborne! For he cannot suppress his temper.” She sighed, overjoyed with hopeful dreaming. “And then you will ransom me to Richard, and he will pay the ransom, and I will return to Mother, and they will hang William Pelletier for treason, and she and I will be free of him!”

Navarrone worried for her in that moment.
He was certain events would not unfold so ideally as she imagined.

“I have not decided whether I will ransom you, love,” he reminded her.
“Perhaps I will keep you…for my own amusement.”

Cristabel Albay laughed.
“You do not intend to keep me, especially not when the price I would bring as ransom is within your reach. And if you wanted to amuse yourself at my expense, you would have done so already.”

Navarrone scowled.
In his youthful naïveté, James Kelley had revealed too much to the little vixen. He sensed he was losing his hold over her. If she did not remain intimidated by him, she could well unravel his plans.

He stood
and strode to her, grinning when he saw her eyes widen.

“What has James Kelley told you, love?” he asked
.

“That you do not go wenching when the ship is in port,” she
answered without reserve. He could see the confidence in her eyes. She did not fear he would ravage her or ill-treat her in any manner. He had been too soft with her—too careful—and it may have already jeopardized the lot. He remembered the night before, something she had asked while she had been overcome by the rum. She had asked him if he had indeed seduced the wife of South Carolina’s governor. He told her the truth of it—that he had not—but he was certain she did not remember speaking to him of seduction and romance.

“That is true,” he said, taking hold of her arm and pulling her from her seat on the chaise.
“I do not go wenching in taverns and back alleys. I prefer much more delicate women than are found there. Wealthy women…the neglected wives of politicians…the wife of the governor of your home state, in fact.”

Cristabel gasped. Were the rumors indeed true? Had the pirate Navarrone the Blue Blade truly seduced the wife of the governor as she had heard the gossips whisper? She put her palms to his broad chest, pushing at him as his strong arms encircled her waist.

“
Stop it!” she said, attempting resistance. She struggled, but he simply turned her body in his arms, pulling her back against him. Taking hold of her wrists, he easily crossed her arms over her bosom and held her tight.

“You see, love…I prefer women who are soft and warm,” he whispered into her ear. He pressed his cheek against the place—allowed his whiskered chin to lightly brush her neck. She tensed and struggled, yet he did not miss the goose flesh breaking over her arms.

“Unhand me!” she growled.

Still, he held her tight—placed a lingering kiss to her shoulder.

“I prefer women who would not normally think of taking a man like me to their bosom,” he whispered.
He smiled, for he could feel the trembling in her. “Women like you, love.” He again kissed her shoulder. He wondered then why had she not taken the time to put a dress over her chemise and corset. He had allowed her to have her trunk, and he knew it held several dresses within. “Pretty women who own a sweet fragrance to their skin…who tremble in my arms…who dress to please me—or in your case, love…undress to please me.”

“
I have not remained immodest to please you…vile blackguard that you are,” she growled through clenched teeth. “In truth…I-I neglected to dress for the sake that James Kelley arrived with a plate of supper for me before I was able. Release me, and I will gladly dress…though not to please you.”

Navarrone sighed
, relieved that she was once again intimidated by him, and he knew she was—for she was combative once more. Yet he hesitated in releasing her, for she was indeed soft and warm in his arms, the fragrance of her skin that of some whimsical nectar. His considerations were fast moving from holding her for the purpose of intimidation and control to that of heightening desire to have her. He must seal his dominance quickly and set her away from him, before his heart found some attachment to her that might interfere with his purpose.

“How can I release you, love…when it is so very obvious that you delight in my attentions?” he baited her.

“Delight in your attentions?” she near squealed. He was amused by her riled indignation. “Your attentions churn a nausea in me that even the rum could not equal!”

“Oh, but that is not true, is it, Cristabel Albay?” he teased her.
“For you’re trembling.”

“Because I am angry!
”

“
So you claim,” he began, allowing his lips to travel over her shoulder—to her neck—to her tender cheek. “And yet you are found out, love…for you are riddled with goose bumps…a certain evidence that your flesh savors my touch. Thus, though your mouth will not speak the truth to me…your body does.”