The Pirate's Bride Read online

  Replacing the items onto her desk, he spun on one heel with a sly grin. “Oh, I’d much rather examine your instruments, mon amour, but alas, we are here to discuss business." His grin widened and eyes glittered. She was smart enough realize he meant something other than her tools.

  She moved behind the desk and cocked her head, trailing her hand along its top. “What did you need to talk to me about alone, Captain?” She forced herself to look at him even as he contemplated the ceiling, tapping his lips with one index finger. One of the fingers he’d slipped into—No, no, don’t think of that. Not with him back in her life, barely five feet away.

  He turned abruptly, startling a surprised gasp from her lips, and headed around the desk while she moved opposite him, keeping that obstacle between them. “Oh, I don’t know, mon amour. Could it be the fact that you’ve turned pirate while I’ve been gone, taken my territory and me rightful plunder, as well claiming your father’s. Even fired on me?

  “And let’s not forget you were already deflowered when you came to our marriage bed. Any of those topics should keep you talking for a while, and assure my attention for just as long.”

  He slid one lean hip onto her desk, swung about to be within touching distance of her as he planted his boots on the seat of her chair. With a breathless squeal, she jumped back as though cornered, when in fact he had not caged her in at all. His presence was simply overwhelming in her small cabin.

  Needing space between them, she moved to the cabin window and pushed it open, inhaled deeply before turning around, where she found him now standing close behind her. She hadn’t heard him move. The warmth of his body radiated right through her clothes.

  She stumbled back against the wall, hand held before her to halt his panther-like advance. “I-I will discuss all that with you. Just, please, leave me some room.” She flitted past him to move once more to the center of the cabin, gesturing for him to sit at her desk.

  Andre tilted his head, silver earring glinting in the setting sun. He refused the offer with a shake of his head, indicating she should take the chair while he chose to sit on the wooden bench below her open window. Stretching out his legs sideways along the seat and clasping his hands behind his kerchief-covered head, he settled in.

  It was her turn to pace, striding to the other side of her quarters while twisting her fingers together. Then she simply stopped, stood statue-like, unable to continue.

  His voice came to her from across the room. “Although I have mastered many mystical customs throughout my travels, mind reading is not one of them, madame please, tell me how you went from a shy, young debutante frightened of the marriage act, to bloodthirsty, Caribbean pirate willing fire upon her absentee husband. Do tell." He lay back against casement like cat getting ready purr.

  She’d expected a stronger response from him, so the gentleness of his jibe knocked her off balance. She looked down at her entwined fingers to gather her thoughts. “My father died just a few weeks after you...you left.” Glancing up she saw him blink, his only reaction to her news. She stomped to the closed cabin door, before swinging around. “There I was, left with a big house and a pirate ship, a dead father and a missing husband.”

  With her chin raised, she leveled a challenging glare at him. He returned her look with a wide grin, flashing white teeth from his perch on the window seat. “So you did what? Turned in your petticoats to run with the men?”

  Nerves got the better of her as she stamped her booted foot. “Do you want to hear my story or interject your own theories?”

  He sobered and inclined his head for her to continue. She shot him another grudging look before taking a deep breath.

  “I had always wanted to sail, but my father would never allow me. This was my chance to do exactly what I wanted. After I buried my father I approached Le Commandant and told him I wanted to sail my father’s ship and take over his territory.”

  He swiveled to sit upright on the bench, gaze bright upon her. “And did you make him an offer he couldn’t refuse, ma petit?"

  This innuendo she understood. She rounded on him, outraged indignation spreading through her. “Do not measure me by your own yardstick, monsieur, just because you would sleep with someone to get what want does not mean I do so.

  “I told your father I wanted to become a pirate whether he trained me or not. He decided to help me. He tutored me himself, handpicked my crew, and taught me how to run a ship. I am indebted to him, and show my allegiance by paying my percentage of swag to him regularly.”

  She inhaled sharply, the action drawing his gaze to her breasts. Seeing where he was looking, she backed away. He advanced as she retreated, saying, “My apologies. I meant no disrespect, although my yardstick is nigh untouchable by anyone else’s length.”

  From his leer, she realized he was talking about something else entirely, but once more, her comparative innocence impeded her understanding. Besides, his stalking her garnered all her attention and fear as she backed away, right into the curtain surrounding her bed. He continued his forward progress until he’d cornered her, their chests touching with every breath they took.

  She refused to look him in the eyes, training them on the open-necked shirt he wore instead. Then he raised a gentle hand to touch her hair, much as Limey had done earlier.

  While Limey’s touch had comforted, Andre’s burned, causing a whimper to struggle from her throat. His hand drifted from the top of her head, stroking over and over the length of her hair, smoothing along her shoulder before ceasing.

  Stomach clenching, she jumped when that same hand slipped under her chin, pressed it up until she was forced to look into his face. Feeling hot and cold at once, she raised her eyes to meet his and lost herself in those umber orbs beneath hooded lids. He was hypnotizing her like a snake with its prey, drowning her in the depths of those mesmerizing twin pools.

  His thumb gently circled the smooth flesh of her chin, round and round, scorching her skin like a brand. Somehow, she found the courage to croak past parched lips, “Please, no.”

  His fingers stilled even as his thick-fringed gaze searched hers, threatening to draw out the secret she held close within her, the very reason for her fear and hesitancy.

  ~*~

  Sophie’s plea broke the sensual spell he wove. Andre pivoted and circled the writing desk, stunned at the level of attraction he felt just by touching her. He wanted to taste her, touch her as he had on their wedding night—

  The memory of that moment inside her, the huge disappointment that had sent him hastening to the priest, forced from his lips, “So you decided being in command of the Sargasso wasn’t enough and attempted to take over my territory as well?”

  “You weren’t around, so why not?” she replied with spunk. “When that harlot on Tortuga said you’d left just that morning, I figured someone needed to take charge, and I’ve done a dar—damned good job at it. Losing your position is the price you pay if you don’t stay around to protect it.”

  He could see her entire body quiver as she lectured him. It took a lot of courage, that, especially when he knew his presence unnerved her. He had to admire her for her one-track mind.

  He’d dumped her, so she’d taken his place in the Caribbean. She had more ballocks than most men of his acquaintance did. She’d become a pirate, taken over his territory, and had even fired upon him. mon dieu, she had more layers than he’d previously credited her with. for the first time he questioned his actions of that fated night.

  Deciding to peel some of those layers she’d revealed, he leaned back against the door while crossing his arms as well as ankles. “Well, I’m back now, mon amour, so the Caribbean is mine once more, as well Sargasso."

  Her head snapped up. “You have no right. That was my father’s sea, and I inherited it.”

  First layer stripped away.

  He straightened from the door, returned to perusing her navigation tools upon the desk while lying with only a twinge of compunction, “And I am your husband, which makes me
in charge of all your holdings and belongings. Women, and wives especially, have no rights, remember, ma belle?”

  Fury, fast, wild, and primitive, flashed across her face, and ripped a guttural shriek from her throat. He stepped back, held his breath in awe of the raw passion distorting her features. Her blind gaze dropped to her pistol, she grappled with it at her belt before pulling it free and raising it. He drew his own with ease, pointing it in the center of her forehead.

  Their gazes locked over the barrels, held. Hammers clicked, paused. Time spun out. He remained calm under her savage glare. That fact alone puzzled him. He normally granted no quarter to upstarts, even feminine ones.

  A knock came at the door. Her stare skittered over his shoulder, then back to him.

  “Captain? Sophie? Everything alright?”

  It was Limey, blast his interfering soul. Andre jumped into the silence.

  “If he comes in here, he’ll try to rescue you, Sophie, and I’ll be forced to fire on him. Do you want that to happen?” He held his breath. Could he even shoot Sophie’s first mate? Or her, for that matter? He hoped to God he wouldn’t be put to the test as he kept his gun trained on the spitfire.

  He saw the instant she surrendered, releasing the hammer and dropping her pistol to her side. She drew a shaking breath and called out in a quavering voice, “I’m fine, Limey. Thank you.”

  Silence, punctuated by their harsh breathing, filled the cabin as Andre held out his free hand for her pistol and wiggled his fingers to emphasize his command. She handed it over, shoulders slumping. He shoved both pistols through his belt, turned and wiped a surprisingly unsteady hand down his face at the close call.

  “You have no right.”

  He pivoted at her growled comment. “You know I do. You know I will. I’ve been a pirate all my life, ma colombe. Sailing the seas is my life’s blood. No one can take that from me. No one will.” He narrowed his eyes on her.

  “I cannot go back to living in La Nouvelle-Orléans,” she implored. “The Phoenix is my life’s blood, my freedom. If I lose my ship, my sea, you might as well have pulled that trigger.”

  Once again, they were at loggerheads, and of course, he knew exactly where she was coming from. He understood how the ocean swept into one’s existence, overtaking every aspect of one’s life. Making it impossible to live, to work, and to breathe anywhere else.

  That was when he decided he might have been too...rash...on their wedding night. He’d been angry, yes, when he’d found her not a virgin, when he’d thought she was using his name for her bastard. However, perhaps requesting an annulment had been too impulsive. After all, they seemed to think alike, right down to pulling a weapon on the other.

  He knew she was attracted to him by the way she flushed pink whenever he was around. And he? He wanted to finish what they’d started that night so many months ago. He wanted to fill her body, fill her mind with only him, until she forgot whoever had been her first.

  Therefore, easing over to her side, he slipped an arm around her shoulder, even as she attempted to shrug it off. He persisted, waved his free hand as he spoke. “Seeing such intensity of emotion coming from you, ma belle, strikes a chord deep within me, compels me to find a solution amicable for both of us. Compris?"

  He turned her to face him, rested both forearms on her shoulders. Looking deep into her unhappy gaze, he tried to maintain an innocent demeanor, yet felt his cock twitch at what he was about to suggest. Down, boy.

  “Perhaps we could come to a mutual understanding within a different arena, eh, ma chère?"

  She stepped back, out from under his arms, still wearing that defeated look as she interpreted, “You mean the bedroom.”

  Ah, what a bright woman she was. If they proved as compatible as he thought, he’d tear that annulment up and throw it to the fishes with no one else the wiser. He swallowed a triumphant grin. “Oui you are my wife, after all, and obviously not new to the marriage act. however, since we but virtual strangers, I can be patient wait as get know each other. Woo you, the saying goes. Sargasso remains mine until we...renegotiate."

  “That’s blackmail,” she cried.

  He flashed a triumphant grin. “That’s piracy, mon amour."

  ~*~

  “But it is your baby, Junjie. I promise, it is. Oh—”

  Junjie Zheng backhanded Lijuan across the face, spinning her to the floor. Standing with legs spread and fists on his silk-clad hips, he stared down at her bowed head.

  “It is no more my baby than that cuckolding bastard was a thief. My investigation into your deception confirmed that your lover was none other than Captain Andre Dubois, from the Caribbean Sea, no less. You have lied over and over again.” His fury at her betrayal rose along with his voice.

  She lifted her streaming gaze to his and shook her head as he continued. “I know the child you carry is his. You have never carried a child of mine to term, so I know you bear his bastard—”

  “No, no. I was already with child when I...when I met him. This is yours, Junjie. I promise.”

  Hiccups joined the tears running down her face, causing her to gasp for air and choke back sobs. How could he believe anything she said? He had the proof. His investigators would not lie to him. Never could he trust her again.

  “Enough,” he roared. “You will never shame me again, you vile whore.” He raised his broad sword.

  Fueled by his anger, he swung the weapon in a whistling arc, severing her head from her shoulders in one vicious swipe. It rolled across the floor to come to rest at the feet of his royal guards. He dared them to make a noise, even the slightest gag. His bloodlust had not been slaked.

  Chest heaving, sweat dripping from his face, he handed his scarlet-dripping blade off to one of his sentries to clean. Casting no other look at his beheaded wife, he stepped around her corpse and strode toward the exit, tossing over his shoulder, “Remove the unborn child from my wife’s womb and bring it to me, and then make ready my fastest junk and my stealthiest assassins. They must prepare for a journey to the other side of the world.”

  Chapter Eight

  “What the hell is she doing, Master G?” queried Andre a few days after he’d reunited with Sophie. Except for some cursory nods across the water, neither of them had ventured onto the other’s ship. They’d reached Port Royal and delivered Le Commandant’s share of their swag, only to be told by his purser that Le Commandant requested their presence in La Nouvelle-Orléans.

  That had been the last time they’d conversed, short sentences to the effect that the Phoenix would follow the Jade Princess across the Caribbean. Since then, like any recalcitrant youth, Sophie showed her displeasure by passing his ship at regular intervals, implying he sailed too slow.

  Although he demanded her obedience, whereby she would give in and drop back, he enjoyed studying her. Her emotions were transparent, perhaps because they were more alike than she realized.

  Now that he knew she wasn’t trying to pass someone else’s bastard off as his, he was curious about her lack of purity. Had she given herself in hopes of a proposal? Had she had a tryst with someone her father did not approve? Was that why they’d chosen him? To marry her off quickly?

  Whatever the reason, Andre’s interest in Sophie had been rekindled. He now wanted to get to know the woman he’d married and spurned. Yet even with his lack of morals, he knew if he slept with her without telling her about the annulment, he would be using her just like whoever had taken her virginity.

  So now, he tracked the Phoenix as it blew past them showing no signs of abatement, handing his spyglass to de Gallo while he waited for his verdict.

  “Looks like she’s going to engage that brig there, that’s what it looks like, sir.”

  “Bloody ballocking hell,” Andre sighed, knowing he’d have to intervene if she did what his first mate predicted. Taking back the glass from his first mate, Andre confirmed she was indeed involving the brigantine in some kind of encounter, most likely a boarding.

  Problem was, a
lthough the Phoenix was smaller and faster, she did not have the firepower the brig sustained, nor the crewmembers required to stave off a rebellion. Snorting, he asked rhetorically, “Did I not specifically tell her no pillaging or plundering this trip? That we need to make haste to La Commandant?”

  De Gallo nodded slowly while Andre shook his head and continued. “Hoist the colors and bring her about. A beam, I think, will get the message across best.” He headed for the helm in order to carry out the maneuver himself.

  The brigantine seemed to have surrendered, sitting still in the water as the Phoenix made her approach, but Andre didn’t trust the larger ship and set the Jade Princess at right angles to her, blocking any escape maneuver her captain might entertain. He told his crew to stand by after readying the larboard guns even as he made himself visible to the other ship.

  For now, he felt content to watch Sophie bungle her way through the boarding. Damn if she didn’t flaunt herself too close to the knot of prisoners on deck, waving her gun in the air while her first mate stood close behind her.

  Not good. The situation was just not good.

  Therefore, with a nod to de Gallo, he grabbed a loose lanyard and swung himself across the sparkling water gap to land beside her first mate. The youth stiffened at his landing, then relaxed when he recognized Andre.

  While Sophie taunted her prisoners, Limey said, “I hate it when she does this.”

  Andre glanced up into the tall youth’s face, surprised. “She acts this way every time she boards a ship?” He frowned, for getting too close to captives was an invitation for some kind of attack.

  Limey nodded. “Aye, every bloody time. I tell her and tell her it’s dangerous to get too close, but she won’t listen. She gets too excited.”