Taste of the Devil (23 page)

The ruggedly handsome visage was etched sharply in her mind.

Ginny gasped aloud.

The pirate froze instantly.

In the blink of an eye, he pulled the pistol from his waistband and pointed it straight at the bed. Moon rays sliced across his face, highlighting those unforgettable eyes. They glowed in the shadowed cabin like crystalline waterfalls. “Come out,” he ordered.

Ginny sat up, throwing the covers off. “You!”

It was difficult to say who was more shocked.

For a good few seconds they simply stared at each other, stunned. It was Tyler who found his voice first.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped.

Ginny placed her hands at her waist. “I might ask the same of you– and why are you impersonating the Panther?”

The soft laugh chilled her to her bones.

Her mouth fell open.

He arched that maddening brow of his.

Her hands covered her mouth. “I can’t believe it! It isn’t possible! You are the-the scourge of the seven seas?”

“I would sweep you a bow, my lady, but I fear any display of manners at this point would be wasted.”

She gave him a horrified look.

Then began tossing pillows at him. Ginny was plenty peeved; he had deceived her. And she could not seem to get rid of him. “Be gone, thou foul wretch! Out! Out damn spot!”

He planted his hands at his hips and cocked his head to the side. “This is hardly a Shakespearean tragedy.”

“It is to me!” Having run out of pillows, she scanned the bedside table seeking more ammunition. The small wooden tobacco box would do nicely.

It sailed by his head as he smoothly sidestepped it.

“The question remains, my sweet, as to what you are doing on board this ship– or any ship for that matter. I thought my instructions to you were perfectly clear.”

Ginny was furious. “Your instructions? Who gives a fig for your instructions!”

Only about every seaman who ever crossed his path.

He simply stared at her, eyelids lowered.

There was not a trace of the wastrel Lord Devon in front of her. In his place stood a hardened pirate through and through. She was shocked at the transformation.

Although there had been a few hints along the way. Like that time in the garden and at Frocks...

A disembodied voice yelled down the hatch. “Are y’ all right down there, Capt’n?”

“Aye, I’ll be up anon, Cappy.” It was best not to remain on Creaze’s ship longer than he had to; they had come aboard with a small contingency. One never knew when foolish bravado would strike– even to one as unimaginative as Creaze.

Ginny nervously smoothed down the front of her nightrail as she kneeled on the bed. The fine cotton lawn was somewhat transparent. Unfortunately, her actions brought direct attention to the dilemma. His focus shifted to her gown, then his eyes flicked up to meet her defiant stare. A slow smile curved his cheek.

“Stop that.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m afraid I need to take my leave, madam.”

She motioned him out, as if brushing the dust balls from the dirty cabin.

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t think you quite have the way of it,” he murmured softly.

That said, he bent a shoulder and before she knew what he was about tossed her over it.

The breath temporarily left her body with a grunt.

She found her voice quickly, though.

“Are you mad?” she shrieked. “Let me down!”

“No.”

He headed for the door, dipping low to get under a beam.

“I am going to the Carolinas!” she yelled, pounding his broad back.

“Maybe someday. Not today.” He continued on, unperturbed.

“Argh!” Her rump wiggled next to his face.

He looked at it askance. “I’m getting rather good at this position with you.” He slapped her backside.

“Let. Me. Down. You. Barbarian.”

As if he would ever leave her to Creaze’s men. “You should thank your lucky stars I came upon you, madam.”

He shuddered to think what would have happened to her if he had not intercepted the Abernathy. What were the odds of this chain of events?

“I am beginning to believe you are my fate,” he murmured against her buttock.

“The only thing you are fated for is the gallows!” She tried to kick the rogue, but he subdued her legs easily enough. They had already reached the main deck. She got an upside down view of several men standing with weapons drawn. His scruffy crew, no doubt.

Then she spotted Captain Creaze. He was surrounded by several ruffians who held him in check with drawn swords.

“Captain Creaze, help me!” she yelled out to him.

Creaze, noticing the Panther hoisting his best prize, did make a plea, but it was not the one she expected.

“Ach, Panther, leave that one to me; we had a bargain didn’t we?”

Tyler swung around with Ginny dangling from his broad shoulder. “I don’t recall any bargain between us, Creaze.”

Ginny tossed out, “Oh, I assure you; he doesn’t understand the meaning of keeping a bargain!”

Tyler lightly slapped her backside to shut her up.

Creaze’s expression turned speculative. “What she mean?”

“I have no idea; nor do I care. This lovely girl comes with me. Consider her forfeit– as recompense for your over eager initiative. Having her warm my bed might mitigate my present cold thoughts of you, Creaze.”

“What?!” Ginny tried unsuccessfully to twist away from his iron grip. “I’ll warm no one’s bed, you cur!”

Creaze scratched his ear. He had lost the Lion’s package. That was plain and understood. But this little prize had nothing to do with the Panther.

Try telling the pirate captain that.

Creaze clenched his fists. The sweet bit was forfeit to him. As delectable as she was, she wasn't worth the possibility joining the late Mr. Abernathy's underwater tea party.

If he objected too much, he was sure the Panther would issue the invitation.

At the other end of the deck, Mabel Dooley struggled against two pirates who flanked her on either side. "Let me go, ye dankish, dog-hearted scuts!"

Tyler's men watched in awe, mightily impressed with the older woman's creative use of the king's tongue.

"Tell them to unhand me, y' onion-eyed piece of ratsbane!"

That was flung at Cappy, who, like the others, was agog at the hearty spleen of the woman.

"Did ye not hear me, ye tottering, ill-natured–"

One icy glance from the Panther was all it took to shut her up.

The woman seemed suddenly stupefied as her mouth literally dropped open. The Panther's pastel eyes narrowed in warning and the fight went completely out of her.

He spun around to leave the ship when Ginny, still dangling from his shoulder, whispered near his ear, "You must take Mabel with us."

He paused.

The older woman would never leave her charge. He was glad of that– but she should not have allowed this journey in the first place. He would need a few words later with Mabel Dooley. “Take the other woman too; she’ll be a good bed warmer for my men.”

Creaze cringed. “Not the hearty servant woman too, Capt’n!”

Cappy placed his cutlass at Mabel’s back.

Dutifully, she walked to the edge of the ship. In states ranging from bemused to slack-jawed, both crews watched as the scruffy little quartermaster attempted to hoist the hefty mob-capped woman over to the other ship.

First, he bent at the knees and tried to swing her over his bony shoulders.

Like a weighted sack of potatoes, Mabel remained unmoved.

Cappy walked around the ‘problem’, scratching his stringy hair. Muttering to himself, he grabbed one of the grappling ropes, tied it around her middle and called out to his ship. “Heave-ho!”

Whereupon, Mabel Dooley (arms crossed and a set frown on her ruddy face) was hoisted through the air by no less than six grunting, sweating swabbees.

“Ginny! Ginny!” Waving a lacy handkerchief, Lord Henry came charging up on deck, wig askew, in a striped nightshirt and sleeping cap.

Tyler’s shoulders bunched. Good lord, was that nitwit here too?

Even with his pirate conscience, Tyler could not leave Ginny’s cousin to the likes of Creaze. “And the fop as well,” he grimaced through clenched teeth.

Hack and Slash gave him a peculiar look.

Creaze was not happy. “C’mon, Panther, at least leave us the bleedin’ fop!”

“Nay.” He turned to Hack and Slash. “Get her belongings.

A lady such as this will have finery we can trade.” They ran to do his biding.

“Mrowwwwr.”

Tyler just stared expressionless at the sky. “Do not tell me you brought the bloody cat as well,“ he hissed.

“If you leave him here, I will kill you in your sleep, you sodden pirate,” she threatened.

Tyler stomped over to Charles and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck with his free hand. The fat cat went limp and waited (aye, waited!) to be ferried aboard his ship.

At this point, he realized that his men were hoisting dozens upon dozens of trunks up on deck. “What is going on here?” he roared.

Hack stuttered a reply in the face of his Captain’s ire.

“You-you told us ta get the belongings, sir.”

The Panther looked about ready to murder something. Men from both crews took a step back.

“You travel with all these trunks, madam?” His voice sounded as it did right before there was a skewering.

“Oh, they ain’t hers, Captain.” Slash came forward.

“They’s all his.” He pointed at Henley.

Tyler gave the fop a fulminating glare.

Lord Henry squared his shoulders. “A gentleman has requirements. Fashion is a demanding mistress, after all.”

Hack screwed up his angular face. “Wot he say?

Blimey, he got a mistress?”

Even Creaze snickered at that one.

“Wot shall we do, Capt’n?” Slash asked.

“Bother it, take the lot!” he snapped.

With that he leapt over to the other ship. Wife and cat in tow.

Ginny’s complaints trailed after them. “I do not wish to be your wife!”

* * *

Creaze shook his head.

Perhaps the foolish chit thought the pirate aimed to marry her? He’d seen his share of naive girls who had no idea what was to befall them in the hands of a pirate crew. Yet... Maybe not.

Something about the way the Panther handled her tipped him off. He knew her. Knew her well.

The thought occurred to Creaze that she might already be the Panther’s wife. If so that bit of information might prove invaluable...

When it came to pirates the rule was no questions asked, and no answers given. Still, there had always been something different about the Panther. This information might lead to a clue about the man’s background.

Even if it didn’t, and this woman was truly his wife, she might be a weakness he could later exploit.

Lord knew, the Panther, never had any weaknesses Creaze had ever been able to use. The pirate couldn’t be bribed, bought, threatened, or coerced. Who would even dare try?

But Creaze owed him now. This wasn’t the first time the Panther had interfered with his livelihood. Once he had come upon his ship at sea and discovered his living cargo. The Panther had set the wretches loose, putting them on boats and even taking some aboard his own ship to join his crew. Creaze had let it go at the time.

After all, the Lion had been there to back him up, and the two made off as if it weren’t anything but a joke among old friends. But, Creaze knew there had been more to it.

He had seen the look that passed between the two of them.

Aye, after this the Panther owed Creaze good.

What’s more, the bastard had made him look weak before his crew. He intended to get satisfaction for what the Panther had done.

And he might have the perfect means to do it now.

It shouldn’t be too hard to find out more about his little passenger...

A few gold coins in the right hands often went a long way.

Chapter Twenty-One

The ground swung dizzily below her, then there was nothing but swirling, frothing black water.

Ginny screamed the entire passage.

Tyler did not put her down once he landed on the deck of the Chameleon. With boot heels clicking on the hard wooden surface, he strode purposely across the deck and headed straight to his cabin.

To the raucous cheering of his men.

“Yer got a prize, eh, Cap’n?”

“A pirate’s swagger he has and we know why; don’t we, men?” Braying catcalls for that razor-sharp wit.

“Let me down!” Ginny yelled, kicking her legs.

“Looks like our Panther’s got some prowlin’ ta do!”

Ginny tried to bite the lout’s shoulder. He soundly whacked her behind. The men cheered “Show her a pirate’s goods, Captain!”

“That is disgusting,” Ginny stuck out her tongue in revulsion.

Ribald laughter answered her. Mainly she just saw bare feet, shoes, and scruffy pants. She did brace herself up long enough to catch the eye of an old, grizzled codger. His mouth ripped opened in a lewd grin, revealing the few remaining teeth in his mouth. “Argh, you’ve the face of a siren.” He comically batted his white lashes at her.

She screwed her ‘siren’ face up at him. Upside down.

“And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“He thinks you’re beautiful,” Tyler drawled. “Better watch out, our Cappy is known to steal the ladies’

hearts.” He tapped his chin. “Or does he just steal? Can never get that straight.”

More guffaws from the crew.

Just before Tyler ducked his head to enter his cabin, he called out to his quartermaster, “See that the others are well treated. Find suitable quarters for them.”

“Aye, Capt’n!”

“And Cappy...?”

“Sir?”

“Inform these scalawags that not a hair is to be touched on their heads or they will have me to answer to; clear?” His opaline sights fell on each crew member in turn on deck, marking them.

One could suddenly hear a pin drop.

The crew obviously took their captain at his cutthroat word. They immediately mumbled soothing oaths of agreement.

“Clear as rain, Capt’n.” Cappy verified. “Did y’ get wot we came for, then?”