Miss Minerva's Pirate Mishap Read online

  A sudden stillness at the surrounding tables was the first clue that Marcus’s first mate had arrived as planned. The tension was palpable even before a shadow fell over Marcus and he looked up with a grin.

  There was intimidating and then there was Caleb Calhoun. The man gave new meaning to the word brutish, especially for these small-town villagers who likely didn’t see many pirates about, despite their proximity to the sea.

  Caleb looked every inch the criminal, even if he wasn’t one. Not quite. Rather, not anymore. Semantics were everything when it came to the law and which side one fell of it.

  Large as a giant and broad as an old oak tree, Caleb made a striking impression even with his hat tipped low and moving soundlessly through a crowd. It was likely the scars along his broad jaw and the nose which had been broken too many times that made people look twice. Removing his hat to reveal too-long dark hair and dark skin, Caleb gave him a nod and a scowl as he sank down in his seat. The nod was more civility than Marcus was used to from his old friend.

  “Thought you said we’d be back at sea by now,” Caleb growled.

  Ah, now that was more like it.

  Marcus took another swig of ale. One day on land. That was what he’d said. It was what he’d believed. If it hadn’t been for that little imp with the fiery eyes and the feisty fists, he would have been back at sea by now.

  “This ain’t no place for us,” his second-in-command added, glancing around with open suspicion at the townsfolk who’d gotten over their stunned silence at the sight of Caleb and were now laughing and talking nearby.

  Caleb lifted his upper lip in a sneer as the fellows closest made the mistake of staring a second too long.

  Caleb wasn’t one for staying in one place too long, and it was clear to see why. He looked upon everyday people—good people—as though they were a different species.

  Marcus grinned at his old friend. He supposed he felt the same, to a degree, but he also knew that his time was running out. One day in the not too distant future, he’d need to leave his life of adventure behind. Settle down. Marry. Maybe even have a child or two. A proper family like his brother and sister.

  He jerked back in his seat at the idle thought. That was a first. He’d never let himself think too long on what the future held in store before. Typically those thoughts only led to low spirits and a temper to match.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Caleb muttered.

  Marcus shook his head with a rueful laugh. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  It was only...the moment he’d thought about family and a home, he’d had a startling flash of Minerva’s face, of all things. Min, her father had called her. Fitting, he thought with another grin. She was rather miniature in stature. But no less fierce for it.

  “What do you look so pleased about?” Caleb demanded. “We’re supposed to be gone by now.”

  Marcus nodded. “I know, I know.”

  “You said we’d be on and off of these shores before anyone even spotted us,” Caleb added.

  Marcus let out a weary sigh. That was what he’d said. It was what he’d believed.

  “What happened to the buyer?”

  “Scared off,” Marcus said. No need to add that he’d let an adorable little lady botch his last mission.

  Caleb grunted. “So, no more information on how this smuggling operation links to the pirate leader we’ve been after.”

  Marcus shook his head, his smile gone now as his original frustration returned.

  Smuggling was one thing, but the fact that these smugglers were working with pirates who were part of a small mastermind ring of thieves was something else altogether.

  The fact that this new leader was expanding his crew and his alliances was alarming, but the fact that he felt safe enough to make connections among the British navy? That was unsettling. This person had nerve, and intellect, by all accounts. That was what made him a threat. Enough so that the crown had taken note, which was how Marcus and his crew had gotten involved.

  “We’re out of our element, mate,” Caleb said as he reached for the full glass a server set before him.

  Marcus nodded. They certainly were. And though he wasn’t quite certain if Caleb was referring to this town or this investigation, it didn’t matter. Both were equally true. Marcus had sent his men to a town farther inland—no need to cause even more alarm here in Billingham by having a crew of ill-mannered, unkempt sailors roaming around. But he and his men weren’t used to staying in any one town for long, and Marcus was sure he and Caleb weren’t the only ones growing restless.

  It was equally true that this investigation wasn’t their normal sort. When Marcus first faked his death and created a new life for himself, he had done it for one reason—to help abolish slavery.

  Under the guise of piracy, he and his men on the Night Raider had preyed upon the cruel monsters on the sea. The ones who dealt not in gold but in human beings. He and his men had no qualms stealing from those pirates, along with freeing their slaves, and so, in a sense...Marcus and his crew were pirates.

  But they were also pirate hunters. And as of two years ago, when his brother Alistair and his wife stepped in to keep him out of harm’s way when he and his crew became known to the British admiralty, he’d donned another guise. A privateer.

  His brother Alistair had already been operating a privateering enterprise, and so it hadn’t been too difficult for him and his wife to obtain the proper papers to put him on the right side of the law. Papers that had come in handy this morning when he’d convinced the captain that he was here seeking reparations for the booty that a pirate crew had stolen. Not necessarily a lie, though not the whole truth either.

  “I don’t see why you even care about these smugglers,” Caleb said.

  “You know why,” Marcus said. “They’re a link to someone of power. I can’t leave my crew behind knowing that there’s a villain out there attempting to create a new army of pirates.”

  “You don’t know that’s what this man is doing,” Caleb pointed out. “In fact, you don’t even know if it’s just one man.”

  “It’s one crew,” Marcus said. “And crews only ever have one leader. And if this new leader isn’t banding together outlaws to create his own legion of pirates, then what is it for?”

  Caleb shrugged as he took a sip, his dark gaze focused and seeing far too much, no doubt. “Do you want to hear what I think?”

  Judging by the knowing look in Caleb’s eyes, Marcus wasn’t certain he wished to hear his insights. But he’d never been a coward. He could have been called a lot of names, but never a coward. With that thought, he sighed wearily. “What is it?”

  Caleb leaned forward and his eyes glinted with amusement. Or the closest Caleb got to amusement. More like mockery, really. “I think you’ve latched onto this new mystery bandit because you don’t really want to leave us.”

  Marcus let out a bark of laughter and then sobered as the people nearby turned to look. His job in this town was to avoid attracting too much attention, which was why he’d gone to the captain in charge at the earliest opportunity to put an end to the rumors and the questions before they could begin in earnest.

  He might not have been a small-town resident, but he knew how they worked. Just like his men when they were living in tight quarters on the ship, it was gossip and scandal that kept them entertained. He’d fed the captain a story to tell, about how he was an old friend visiting the family.

  Marcus was all for entertainment, and he’d never deprive anyone their amusement, but he couldn’t afford to have mainland folks questioning the identity of the new privateer in town.

  Not even Caleb knew the whole reason why. Oh, his second-in-command no doubt guessed, or at least he had his theories, but he knew better than to straight out ask.

  No man who made a life on the open seas was foolish enough to pry into his fellow seaman’s secrets.

  Caleb was nodding, smug as could be as he took another swig of ale. “That’s right, Captain. It w
ill be ‘just one more mission’ until we toss you overboard to feed the sharks.”

  Marcus laughed at his friend’s jest. Though, he wasn’t too far off the mark. He wasn’t terribly thrilled at the prospect of settling down to a life on land. He supposed living a proper life just wasn’t in his blood. But he was pushing his luck with each passing day, and he knew it.

  Anytime he set foot on land he felt like he was on borrowed time. One wrong word, one person from his past seeing past the beard and the weathered skin. One man to see the resemblance he bore to a certain heir to an earldom who’d been lost at sea.

  He groaned as he scrubbed a hand over his tired eyes.

  “What is it?” Caleb asked.

  Marcus sighed as he shook his head. How to explain the latest in a long line of disasters? First the easy capture of a smuggling rat had been interrupted, then he’d lost his chance to make a quick, clean getaway with information on his latest prey thanks to a delightful little minx, and now this...a blasted ball.

  The upcoming ball marked his best chance at smoking out those responsible for the smuggling ring, but he’d have to face the bane of his existence. The threat that could end his well-laid plans and potentially destroy his brother and his family while at it.

  The gentry.

  He avoided Caleb’s probing stare as he scowled down into his half-full glass as though the solution to his problem might be found there. How was he to work his way into the crowds, learn about the townsfolk and the officers, while keeping enough distance that he could not possibly be recognized?

  What he needed was someone on the inside.

  Captain Jones, perhaps. He grimaced at the thought of it. The old fellow seemed honest enough and more than capable, but his loyalty was to his men, first and foremost. To suspect one of his own wouldn’t even occur to him, and to take the side of an outsider over his own men was even more unthinkable.

  He’d met men like Jones before, and he knew their strengths—loyalty, honor—and their weaknesses—inflexibility, stubbornness.

  No, that would never work. It was enough that the man was letting him sniff about. And it wasn’t as though he could ask Caleb or one of his other men to try and blend in with that lot. They’d stick out like sore thumbs. Which meant that he’d have to do it. He’d have to slip in and out amongst the gentry there and hope no one recognized him.

  Elsworth. The Earl of Elsworth. The name was familiar. One of his late father’s friends, no doubt. He rubbed a hand over his eyes again, inexplicably exhausted at the thought of the intrigue and danger to come.

  “What is it, mate?” Caleb finally asked. “What has you so shaken?”

  The peerage. He winced. No, there was no way his long-time friend could understand that even after taking up arms against some of the cruelest criminals of the open seas, he was thrown by the thought of seeing members of the ton.

  But Caleb was waiting for an answer and he’d never been one to lie to his friends. Evade their questions? Yes. Deflect questions with a joke or an anecdote? Definitely. But outright lie? Never. Most especially when the answer could very well affect Caleb and his crew.

  He shifted in his seat as he tried to think of how to explain a lifetime of avoidance and subterfuge in a few short sentences. He cleared his throat.

  “Spit it out already. It’s making me itchy just to look at you,” Caleb said.

  Marcus huffed a laugh. “Right. Well, you know that I’m, uh...not exactly what I claim to be.”

  Caleb tipped his head down in understanding. “Most of us ain’t.”

  Marcus nodded. This was true. Most every man on his crew had a past of some kind, and none of them liked to talk about the lives they’d left behind. Some were former naval officers who’d left the service after suffering injuries or witnessing horrors, while others were former victims of brutality in their homelands.

  But Marcus... Well, he was fairly certain he was the only one who’d fled a privileged life of luxury.

  He tapped a finger on his glass. “You see, there are people coming to town...coming to the ball I sent you word about.”

  Caleb nodded. “You think the smuggler will be there?”

  Marcus tipped his head from side to side. “The fact that the man picked a cave so close to the old fort...” He frowned at the memory. “Either it’s someone with no brains and too much nerve, or it’s someone with a reason to be near the fort.”

  “So you think it’s an officer?” Caleb asked.

  Marcus’s brow furrowed in thought. “That or someone who has business nearby.” He shook his head even as he said it. “But what sort of trade would excuse a man for being so close to the fort and the docks at that time of night? It’s not exactly the Port of London, now is it?”

  Caleb grunted in affirmation.

  Marcus sighed. “For now, I’m assuming it’s someone who lives at the fort. It makes the most sense.”

  Caleb nodded. “My money is on one of these officers. They’ve got no good connections and no prospects if they’ve been sent off to a ramshackle little encampment like this one.”

  Marcus didn’t disagree, but he knew better than to make assumptions based on prejudice. And neither he nor Caleb harbored much affection for naval officers. They tended to get in the way in their line of business.

  He found himself frowning down into his drink once more as he remembered his last glimpse of Minerva before he’d disappeared into the night. He’d looked back once.

  All right, twice.

  He made a noise low in his throat, annoyed with himself. When had he ever lied to himself? Fine, he’d looked back a handful of times when he ought to have been running away. All for one last glimpse of her.

  Now, he wished he hadn’t. He wasn’t certain he could ever erase the image of that sweet fiery minx rushing into the arms of...him. Whoever he was. Didn’t matter, really, because the man had looked like all the other ranking officers he’d known in his lifetime. Clean-shaven, patrician features, and a decidedly arrogant set to a too-small chin.

  He sneered at the innocent ale. Oh yes, he’d known far too many men like that one. And not one of them would be a proper match for a fiery lass like his Minerva.

  He snorted at the unbidden thought. She was not his anything.

  “So,” Caleb said, leaning forward and interrupting his wayward thoughts. “We set a trap and give the thief some rope to hang himself, eh?”

  Marcus nodded. That was his thought. He’d made certain that the captain understood that his part in this was to be top secret. No one, not even his highest-ranking officers, were to know that he’d been there to capture the smuggler and glean information about the pirates responsible for the loot.

  The captain hadn’t liked the fact that his officers were not above suspicion, but he’d seemed to understand the need for secrecy, at least.

  And assuming Captain Jones could persuade his daughter to keep her mouth shut on the matter, he’d be safe enough to try and trap the smuggler again. Drop a hint here, let a rumor spread there... Manipulating greedy men was rarely a hardship. It ought to be simple to keep an eye on those coming and going from the ball, and whoever ran off to steal the booty was their culprit. Easy enough, except...

  “What’s the problem?” Caleb asked. His voice, always close to a growl, was tinged with wariness at whatever unease he saw in Marcus’s features.

  “There will be some people at this ball...” He eyed his friend with a similar wariness. “Some people who might have ties to my past.”

  Caleb’s muttered curse correctly put into words all of Marcus’s fears.

  Caleb might not know why his past was securely kept...well, in the past, but he didn’t need to know all to understand that a man’s past could be more terrifying than any physical danger.

  And Caleb’s past? It was haunting him like a spectre, ever more so with each passing year. With age came this new understanding of responsibility, not just to nameless strangers who needed his help, or to his crew who counted on hi
m to keep them safe, fed, and hopefully wealthy to boot...but also to his family by blood.

  Family who could have their lives ruined if his true identity were exposed. It would not just be a scandal, it would put his brother’s title at risk, and his good reputation. It would ruin his sister’s name and her new happiness if society were to discover that the man they called earl was illegitimate and the true heir had fled his duties to become a pirate.

  He shook off the thought.

  Worrying about it would not do any good. He’d do best to keep focused on the prize. Once again, his traitorous mind called up an image of exotic eyes flashing with temper.

  Not that prize, you fool.

  And yet, when he lifted his head to tell Caleb that they ought to focus on the plan to smoke out the smuggler—he saw a vision of her. Again.

  Minerva.

  Min.

  His Minerva.

  He blinked at the sight of her face, but no, this was not just his mind playing tricks. She was here, and...

  She was bearing down on him.

  Her gaze narrowed when she spotted him from the entry to the tavern, another woman at her side, pale and blonde and beautiful in a very English rose sort of way.

  She did not compare to Minerva, who was striking in a far different fashion. It was the anger, and the mischief, and the energy that fairly flew out of her just with a stare.

  He felt himself struck senseless by it. So much so that he couldn’t bring himself to answer when Caleb turned to see who he was staring at and asked, “What’s that girl doing?”

  He wasn’t certain he could say.

  “Have you come to strike me again?” Marcus asked when she reached his table. He came to stand as he asked, and Caleb did as well, even remembering his manners enough to nod at the pretty blonde who was smiling brightly at them both.

  “Strike him again?” the blonde repeated. “Why, Min, you never told me that you hit the man.”

  He flinched. “She wasn’t supposed to tell you about me. Period.”