The Pirate's Tempting Stowaway
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Authors: Erica Ridley
The Pirate’s Tempting Stowaway
Erica Ridley
The Pirate’s Tempting Stowaway
Captain Blackheart leads a simple life of roving the seas, wenching and treasure-hunting. He steers clear of romantic entanglements that could tie him to land. He shouldn't have any trouble keeping his hands off the gently-bred lady he's commissioned to abduct—except his cargo turns out to be feisty and passionate! She'd be a prize worth treasuring, if having her aboard didn't jeopardize everything...
Clara Halton thought the worst loss she could suffer was to be stripped of her family, stricken with consumption, and left to die alone. Then she meets Blackheart. Their attraction is ruinous...and irresistible. When he delivers her like so much plunder, his mission is over — but hers has just begun. She'll force him to acknowledge their connection, even if she must storm his ship to do it!
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Copyright © 2014 Erica Ridley
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1939713412
ISBN-13: 978-1939713414
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover design © Erica Ridley
Photograph on cover © DesignPicsInc, DepositPhotos
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
Table of Contents
Four left for war…
One took to sea.
Chapter 1
February 1816
The Dark Crystal
Atlantic Ocean
The dread pirate Blackheart stood at the bow of his ship, smiling into the rush of salty air, as the first hint of America rose upon the horizon.
Despite the chill of winter, the skies were clear and blue, with both the wind and the sun to his back. ’Twas more than a good omen. It was a perfect day for any number of Captain Blackheart’s favorite activities. Sailing. Wenching. Drinking. Horse-racing. Sword-fighting. Boarding enemy vessels. Commandeering an ill-fortuned frigate.
Nothing was better than the freedom of the seas.
“Land ho!” came the familiar cry from the crow’s nest.
Blackheart’s good humor faded. He relinquished navigational oversight to the Quartermaster without a word.
There was no need to bark orders. Most of the crew had been part of his family long enough to recognize the storm clouds brewing in Blackheart’s eyes, and every hand on board already had their standing orders.
No unnecessary fighting. No drinking to excess. Wenching was always permissible, but only if the crew made haste. The
Dark Crystal
would only be docked at the Port of Philadelphia long enough for Blackheart to accomplish his mission, and then they’d sail down the Delaware River and back out to sea just as swiftly as they’d sailed in.
Payment would only be delivered upon receipt of the booty. In this case…a sickly old woman named Mrs. Halton.
Despite being a pirate for hire, Blackheart was not in the habit of kidnapping innocents. Prior to the end of the war eight short months ago, he had been a privateer for the Royal Navy. A government pirate. A
legal
pirate. Now that he was an independent contractor, he tried to uphold the spirit (if not the precise letter) of the law.
’Twas the surest way to steer clear of the gallows.
The soles of Blackheart’s boots tread silently against polished wood as he strode aft toward the gunroom skylight. He descended the ladder to the Captain’s cabin and slipped inside to gather his supplies.
Item the first: a freshly starched cravat. This mission would require charm. Item the second: a freshly cleaned pistol and extra ammunition. A pirate might not
expect
trouble, but he certainly intended to finish it. Item the third: a heavy coin purse. If everything else failed, gold was often more powerful than bullets. And he planned on using every weapon at his disposal.
By the time the schooner docked at the port, Blackheart was clean-shaven, dandified, and fresh as a daisy. Oh, certainly, his sun-bronzed skin was an unaristocratic brown—and was generously adorned with a truly ungentlemanly quantity of scars—but most of that was hidden away beneath his gleaming Hessians, soft buckskin breeches, muted chestnut waistcoat, blinding white cravat, and dark blue tailcoat with twin rows of gold buttons.
The hidden pistol in its fitted sling made barely a bulge beneath so many layers of foppery.
He forewent both sword and walking stick because he intended to make the rest of the journey on horseback, and debated leaving his hat behind as well. It was unlikely to stay on his head at a gallop, and would be crushed in the saddlebag…
With a sigh, Blackheart scooped up the beaver hat and shoved it on his head. He had no idea how easily manipulated Mrs. Halton might be, or whether she’d turn out to be one of those histrionic old matrons who refused to be seen in public alongside a gentleman with a bare head.
Plan B was to toss her over his shoulder and have done with the matter, but Blackheart had promised the Earl of Carlisle he’d at least
try
to coax the package into accompanying him voluntarily.
And although Blackheart would never admit it aloud, he had a rather high opinion of both his own charm
and
grandmotherly women. He would do everything within his power to make the journey to England a pleasant one for Mrs. Halton, and had already instructed his crew to treat her as if she were their own mother. With any luck, she’d be the sort to bake pies and biscuits. Or at least not to get seasick all over the
Dark Crystal
.
Carrying nothing more than a pair of gloves and a small satchel, he made his way down the gangplank in search of the fastest horse to rent—and nearly tripped over an underfed newspaper boy hawking today’s headlines for a penny.
Under normal circumstances, Blackheart would have flipped the boy a coin and let him keep the paper…but the black font stamped across the top stopped the captain in his tracks.
MOST DANGEROUS PIRATE:
THE CRIMSON CORSAIR
Blackheart snatched up the paper and tried to read over the grinding of his teeth. He wasn’t certain what he hated most about the Crimson Corsair: that the man was a dishonorable, coldblooded madman, or that he’d started to receive better press than Blackheart himself.
“You gonna pay for that, mister?” came a belligerent, high-pitched voice below his elbow.
He slapped the newspaper back onto the pile along with a shiny new coin, and stalked off the dock. Now was not the time to think about the Crimson Corsair. Once Mrs. Halton was safely delivered, Blackheart and his crew would be free to pursue any mission they wished—perhaps a quick seek-and-destroy of the corsair’s vessel—but for the moment, he needed to stay focused. Not only had he given Carlisle his word, this mission would be a doddle. Grab the woman, get the money. The easiest three hundred pounds of his life.
The Pennsylvania countryside flew past, the sky darkening as he rode. Blackheart kept to the mail roads in order to trade for fresh horses at posting-houses…and also to keep from losing his way. He was used to England and to the open sea, not these sparsely populated American trails winding endlessly between bigger cities. He never felt comfortable when he was out of sight from the water, and he was heading further from the ocean with every step.
Despite the impressive number of small towns intersecting the long dusty roads, he felt more isolated with each passing mile. The hurried meals he took in country taverns were nothing like the rowdy camaraderie aboard his ship. He could scarcely wait to complete this mission.