The Pirate Bride (4 page)

Red lowered her head, inhaling deeply. She steadied herself, and then almost smiled. The captain of a merchantman they had once seized off Savannah had told her that Ellen had died. Slowly. Painfully.

She did believe in God.

And it might have been the only time she had ever believed that God also believed in her, no matter how un Christian such a thought might be. Ellen, who had paraded her entire household to church every Sunday, deserved to be in hell. God could afford to be forgiving; she could not.

Still, Blair Colm, the man who had slain infants in front of her for the sake of expediency, was still alive, a fact that desperately needed to be rectified. God had allowed him to live far too long. God had allowed him to commit far too many atrocities.

God needed her help.

God had helped her create Red Robert, and so Red Robert would now help God rid the world of Blair Colm.

That was one way to look at things, anyway. It was a way of seeing the world that helped her to stay sane and committed to her path.

And now that she had started upon her path, there was no going back.

She would not give up this life—
could
not give up this life—until he was dead.

And so…

On to New Providence.

New Providence

T
O SAY THAT
she glittered in the distance would be a stretch. But there she was, big and bawdy, a place where the shouts in the streets were loud enough to be heard from a distance, where many a rogue kept a grand lair in which to exercise his base desires. The wharf was filled with boxes and barrels being loaded and unloaded; ships lay at anchor in the harbor, small boats plying the shallows back and forth between them and the shore. Women, tall and short, their skin of as many colors as their brightly festooned clothing, walked the muddy roads, past storefronts and taverns and huts, most of them nearly a-tumble.

It was a beautiful day. The ship rested at anchor, gently listing in the bay, beneath a sky that was just kissed by soft white puffs of cloud. The breeze was sweet and clean and caressing, at least out here, where they still lay at ease upon the sea. Logan knew that there were areas of New Providence where little could be called sweet. Slop buckets were tossed out windows, turning the roads to foul mud. And since the populace leaned heavily toward drink, the stale scents of whiskey, rum and beer combined with the fumes of old pipe tobacco to make the resulting stench nauseating.

But from this distance it all looked merely colorful and exciting, even offering a strange charm with its straightforward, no-apology bawdiness.

A hand fell on his shoulder. “It’s the isle of thieves, my friend,” Brendan said.

“Aye, but honest thieves they be, eh?” Logan said.

“You’ve been here before?”

“I have.”

Brendan stepped back, grinning as he looked at him. “What was a fine gentleman such as yourself doing among the riffraff of this island?”

“Bartering,” Logan told him. He hiked his shoulders and let them fall. “I don’t recall saying that I was a fine gentleman.”

“
Lord
Haggerty?”

“We pronounce it ‘laird,’” he told Brendan wearily.

Brendan arched a brow, his easy grin still in place. He was a strange enough fellow himself to be a pirate.

For one thing, his teeth were good.

Then again, it was passing strange that a shipful of burly outcasts should bathe and do laundry, though one of the toughest-looking of the group, Bill Thornton, known to one and all as Peg-leg, had told him that he found it amazing not to have caught the least fever nor been plagued by scabies since he’d taken up with Captain Red. In fact, the man had confessed, he was looking forward to seeing what soaps he might be able to buy in Nassau.

But Brendan…

Interesting man. As interesting as the captain. They were obviously related. Brendan was taller by a good five inches, though the captain—despite the heeled boots—was not short. Brendan stood well over six feet, and had the shoulders of a man who was long accustomed to using his muscles. He was in excellent shape. His features were nowhere near as fine as the captain’s, his eyes a paler blue, his jaw far more square. At times, he brooded. When caught in the act, he was quick with a ribald comment or an off-the-cuff remark. He’d shown himself keenly interested in what was going on in the colonies, his interest greatest regarding the more southern cities, such as Charleston and Savannah.

He was friendly. And through that friendliness, Logan had come to know the others. Hagar was like a huge watchdog, a burly man, towering over even Brendan and himself. His hands were massive, his thighs were like tree trunks, and his chest could vie with a barrel. But Hagar, too, was a decent enough fellow, with a fine sense of humor. All seemed to worship the captain, rather than just honor Red Robert.

“As you wish.
Laird
Haggerty, we are about to make shore. Next boat, my good man.”

The
Eagle,
as the ship had been dubbed by the pirates, who had changed her name from that which the previous captain had given her, was equipped with two tenders for loading and unloading supplies and cargo, and also boasted two smaller, sleeker ones. The tenders had headed to shore first, with Hagar in charge, and now the first of them was being lowered for those who would follow, Peg-leg, Brendan, Captain Red and Logan, with another huge crewman, Silent Sam, a strapping Iroquois, at the oars.

As the men stood there, ready to make the descent, Red Robert made an appearance in customary attire: high black boots, white shirt, brocade vest, black coat, and plumed, low-riding hat. There was a knife set in the flap in each boot, and a low-riding leather belt carried a blunderbuss and a double-barreled pistol. A sword in a leather sheath hung from the same belt.

Red Robert was prepared.

“Are you ready for New Providence, Laird Haggerty?” Red Robert asked.

“I know New Providence,” Logan reminded the pirate captain.

“But it changes, you see,” the pirate said. “It changes literally with the wind, for the mood of the town follows that of whichever king of thieves is in port.” Red Robert nodded at Brendan.

“My
laird,
” Brendan said to Logan, offering a sweeping bow and gesturing him to precede them into the tender.

Logan nimbly crawled over the rail and onto the rope ladder that led down to the small boat, where Silent Sam was already waiting at the oars. Logan jumped the last few feet, feeling the tender rock beneath him, and easily took a seat. He watched as the others followed.

“So, you’ll sell my cargo here?” he asked Red and Brendan when they’d taken their seats.

“Every man out there will know I have it soon enough. Better to rid myself of dangerous riches. Pieces of eight are easier to manage,” Red said with a shrug.

“I could have gotten you much more for it elsewhere,” Logan said.

“Pity. That’s the way it goes,” the pirate captain replied.

Logan tried a different tactic. “This is quite a dangerous place to conduct business.”

“And have you, despite your current state, come ashore for business?” Red asked.

“I have. But I’m not…” His voice trailed off, and he turned to face the wharf.

“You’re not what?” He was startled as Red’s gloved hand fell on his knee. The wary anger in the deep blue eyes that met his was disturbing.

“I’m not a pirate.”

“The hell you’re not,” Red said, settling back.

“Well, he’s not,” Brendan commented.

“Oh, really? He is at least a thief, for was this treasure not already stolen before it came to us?”

Logan stared back at Red but said nothing.

“You do not protest?” Red asked.

“No. Point taken.”

The tender drew up to an extension of the wooden dock. Hagar and several of the others were there, waiting.

“Is he here?” Red asked.

Hagar nodded. “Awaiting you at the Cock’s Crow.”

“Fine. And the cargo?”

“Already at the tavern, Cap’n,” Hagar said. “All know you’re the rightful owner, all are considering their bids, should he decide not to buy.”

“Fine. Skeleton crew is holding the ship, you know your orders.” Red started down the wharf with Brendan. Curious, Logan followed.

Chickens skittered across the dirt road, flapping and clucking as they walked.
“Gardez l’eau!”
someone called out, and they stepped aside in time to miss the contents of a chamber pot. Red strode on with confidence, and Logan noticed men calling out in greeting, all with respectful tips of the hat or touches to the forehead. Red never did more than nod in return.

“Amazing,” Logan said to Brendan.

“What’s that?”

“I’ve never seen a group of such derelicts show such respect to another man…even Blackbeard,” Logan muttered.

“Red took down the devil, you see,” Brendan said quietly.

Logan realized that the other didn’t intend for his words to be overheard and answered equally softly.

“The devil?”

“Ever hear of Black Luke?”

Logan frowned. The man had been the terror of the seas, feared and loathed even by other pirates.

Usually a pirate’s intent was not to sink a ship or to kill the crew. Ships were valuable. They were usually taken and added to a pirate’s fleet. Men were killed only when they refused to surrender, for the captured ships needed crews.

Black Luke had sunk more ships than most men saw in a lifetime. He had never allowed a captured man to live. He had tortured his captives. His men had not voted, as was the pirate way, nor received their fair share of any treasure. There would have been a mutiny, had they not been so terrified for their lives. It had been said that he had eyes in the back of his head. One of his men had once tried to kill him when he had been sleeping. Black Luke had arisen to grab him by the neck and throw him into the sea.

“
Red
killed Black Luke?” Logan asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Talent. And a hell of a lot of luck,” Brendan said.

“Were you there?”

Brendan’s jaw was as tight as a hangman’s noose. “Yes,” he said after a moment.

“I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it.”

“I’d heard a rumor that Black Luke was dead, but no one ever seemed to know if it was true, or, if so, how he died,” Logan said.

Brendan was staring straight ahead, clearly unwilling to explain.

A door burst open, and a man came flying out of an establishment with peeling white paint and shuttered windows that were open to the day. He was followed by a woman with a mass of wild black hair, bare feet, a low cotton bodice and a multicolored skirt with the hem of a dirty petticoat peeking out from beneath it. “Take yer filthy paws elsewhere, y’ varmint!” she shouted. “My girls are not cheap!”

“Your girls are whores!” the fellow yelled in return.

“But they’re not
cheap
whores, and they’ll not be taking on the likes of you for nowt. Get away with ye.” She paused, a smile splitting her face as she saw Red. “Captain Robert,” she said, her tone delighted.

“Aye, Sonya, we’re in port. Is Edward about?” Red asked.

“He said ye’d be here. He’s a room ready fer yer negotiating in the back. Brendan, poppet,” she crooned. “And…what have we here?” she asked with a wink, her gaze moving admiringly over Logan.

She walked up to him quickly with a sway in her steps but stopped short of touching him.

“Why, it’s Laird Haggerty,” she said with another smile.

That stopped Red, Logan noticed.

“Aye, Sonya. A pleasure,” he said, and dipped his hat.

Red was staring at him with an expression that plainly said,
Men. Naturally, he knows the island’s harlots.

Sonya frowned. “You are…sailing…together?” she said incredulously.

“Laird Haggerty is our guest at the moment,” Brendan said. His tone, though pleasant enough, indicated that she should ask no more. Then he clapped a hand on Logan’s back. “To the rum, eh?” he said.

“To the rum,” Logan agreed. He was certain he had no other choice. But as they entered the noisy, smoke-filled tavern, he could not help but watch Captain Red Robert as the pirate walked toward the rear of the dubious establishment.

“Sonya knows you?” Brendan asked, a wicked gleam in his eye.

“I sail to all the known ports,” Logan said.

“Seeking treasure?” Brendan asked skeptically.

“I sell and trade,” Logan said, and looked away. “And, of course…every sailor seeks information,” he added.

“Information?” Brendan pursued.

“It’s wise for all of us to know what happens on the seas. Which…captains sail where.”

“Ah. Pity, you didn’t hear about our whereabouts, then.”

“Pity,” Logan agreed.

“L
ITTLE GIRL
! W
ELCOME
!”

The man already entrenched behind one of the tavern’s rickety wood tables in the rear corner of the place was huge. His double-breasted jacket was open, as was his cotton shirt, and grandiose lace spilled out over his velvet vest.

Edward Teach, popularly known as Blackbeard, was fond of ostentatious clothing, as strange a contrast as it made with his thick dark hair, formidable size and ruggedly lined features. He was a sensual man, with full lips, large hands and a barrel-deep laugh.

Red cast him a look of baleful warning.

“Ah, think you that the lot of drunks beyond this wall can hear a bloody blessed thing over all their caterwauling and so-called music and whoring, missy?”

“There are always those who long to topple the successful from power, and you know it,” Red reminded him, sliding the chair opposite him out from the table with her foot. As soon as she sat, he reached across the table and took her hands.

“As you wish, Cap’n Red, so it will be. In the darkest of night, in solitude and to the heavens. Cap’n Red. That be that.”

“I brought you treasure.”

“I steal treasure for a living, as well you know.” He arched a brow. “I agreed to meet you here to consider your offer to join forces, not to buy treasure.”

She waved a hand in the air. “This is an exceptional treasure.”

“Oh?”

“Spanish treasure.”

He laughed. “Well, it’s sorry I am to say it, but the English have not come up with much treasure. The Spanish are the ones known to be wiping out whole populations and taking what they won’t be needing anymore, since they’re all dead.”

“The English did not claim the lands where gold was to be found,” she said. “But, apparently, certain English nobles were willing to pay highly for this treasure. You’ve seen what I’ve brought. The pieces and the jewels are exquisite.”

“Aye, I’ve seen what you brought. And it’s fine indeed.”

“Of course. So you’ll offer me negotiable gold for it?”

“I am an exceptional sea thief myself. I can steal my own treasure.”

“But this one will cost you half its worth—and not a man to boot. You won’t waste a ball or shell, you will not have to let loose a single cannon. You can obtain this rare treasure at an unusually low cost in time, effort and life.”

“I like you, and you know it. And I think you should live and take your pretty arse out of all this,” he said, nodding seriously.

She smiled. He was one of the most feared men to sail the seas. He knew what she had instinctively fathomed: perception was of far greater value than truth. Not that he hadn’t slain his share of opponents, and not that he couldn’t be ruthless, but he didn’t kill every man he captured, and he was very fond of women. In fact, he had married many of them.