A Lady’s Guide to Love and Pirates

Prologue

Captain Reid Courtney strode from Calypso’s Quest, across the plank, and onto the deck of the San Sebastian.

His sword was drawn and raised, ready for action, but he soon found the precaution unnecessary.

The few Spanish sailors who’d raised an objection to the boarding were quickly subdued, and the others cowered, guarded by Courtney’s men, awaiting his order.

A pity none chose to put up more of a fight.

As far as capturing ships went, it had been a rather dull few months.

He inhaled, smelling the smoke from muskets and cannon fire as he surveyed the ship.

Quite a nice little galleon. Not a warship by any means, though the marineros had employed their few guns when Courtney’s ship had drawn near.

Luckily, no cannonballs had hit their marks.

It always made him furious when his prized ship was damaged.

Based on the lack of guards, the San Sebastian was not a treasure ship either, which was disappointing.

The fine apparel on the prisoners, however, suggested a private vessel transporting investors, diplomats, and possibly nobles from their holdings in the West Indies.

Not entirely a loss. Courtney derived particular pleasure in confiscating jewelry and embroidered clothing from the powdered-and-rouged set.

Once in a while, he even retrieved a nice wig.

Not that he would ever put such a preposterous adornment on his own head.

But he did enjoy the dismay in a man’s face when he was left without his favorite accessory.

Courtney’s first mate approached with unhurried steps. Thick-necked and deeply brown-skinned, Lazarus Shadbolt’s demeanor spoke of confidence. Gold hoops sparkled in his ears, tattoos covered his muscular arms, and his bare head and chest shone smooth beneath the hot sun.

Shadbolt gave a small nod. The ship was secure. He stepped around to stand beside Courtney. His hand rested on the hilt of the cutlass in his belt, and his sharp gaze scanned the deck. The pair studied the prisoners.

“The captain?” Courtney asked, sliding his sword back into its sheath.

Shadbolt lifted his chin toward one of the men kneeling on the deck. The captain’s arms were bound behind him, his curled wig askew, and his face twisted in a scowl. It appeared he, at least, possessed a bit of spirit.

“Any treasure?”

“Besides what these rich men wear?” Shadbolt shrugged. “Some of the crew have gone below to search. They will surely find more in the passengers’ trunks.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “Captain, there is . . . something else.” He glanced toward the stern. “You should see for yourself.”

The slight hesitation was enough to make Courtney wary. He followed Shadbolt’s directions abaft, coming to a cabin that he assumed belonged to a passenger.

Courtney glanced back once before opening the door. The strange expression on Shadbolt’s face led him to draw a dirk from his belt. He stepped inside.

As his vision adjusted, he saw a dim space lit by lanterns.

A woman lay on the single berth, her face ashen and her dark hair damp with sweat.

Her wide eyes were filled with fear and surprise.

The chamber smelled of blood, and he saw a wad of stained linens in a basin.

Courtney’s alarm spiked. She could be suffering from the black death.

He pulled back, instinctively putting a hand over his nose and mouth. There were procedures to be followed in cases of the plague. The ship should have flown a quarantine flag, especially if others aboard were showing symptoms. He would have to warn his men.

He moved to back out of the cabin, but a sound stopped him. A small cry like a lamb’s bleat.

Another woman turned from the shadows at the side of the cabin.

In his panic, Courtney hadn’t noticed her.

She wore an apron, and her hair was tucked beneath a cap.

The nurse held something close against her chest. A bundle wrapped in a blanket.

The sound came again, and the truth of the scene became clear.

The woman on the bed—the mother—spoke. “I know who you are, Captain Courtney.” Even in her condition, her voice was haughty. And she was English, which he hadn’t expected. “You are a pirate.”

“A privateer, if you please,” he corrected. “Would you like to see my letter of marque?”

“I would not.” She narrowed her eyes.

He sniffed, disappointed. Since he’d been issued the license, not one person had checked the credential authorizing him to attack vessels from countries at war with England.

It was a pity. The letter was written in very elegant script and signed by King Charles II himself.

“You have the advantage of me, madam. You know my name, but I don’t know yours. ”

“Antoinette Bradford, Countess of Montagu.” Even from her prone position, she managed somehow to look down her nose at him.

Courtney swept off his hat and made a gracious bow, careful not to let his surprise show.

Lord Montagu had been the governor of Barbados before the death of his older brother obliged him to return to London for parliamentary duties.

He still owned a significant amount of property on the island and was rumored to be a close friend of the Duke of Cumberland.

“A pleasure, my lady.”

Her nod would have been more suited to a courtier in the king’s entourage than a sweat-soaked pillow.

“Your husband is aboard?” He cringed at the thought of Lord Montagu taking the abuse of his crewmates alongside the other prisoners on the deck. The king would certainly have something to say about that.

“My husband is dead,” she said. “Yellow Fever. Capitán Ruiz was kind enough to offer to deliver me back to England.”

“The ship is Spanish,” he said, pointing out the obvious. “And you are a guest, not a prisoner?”

“Just because two countries are enemies does not mean their citizens cannot act like gentlemen. Capitán Ruiz is very honorable. We had hoped to arrive home before . . .” She looked toward the baby, then her eyes snapped back to Courtney and her expression turned, if possible, even colder.

“There is nothing for you here, Captain,” Lady Montagu said, her words a clear dismissal.

“And this cabin is not the place for a man.”

Courtney took exception to her tone. He was in command of this ship, and he would depart when he was ready. As captain, he had a reputation to uphold, and he most certainly would not take orders from her or anyone else, no matter their title. Out of defiance, he took a step closer.

The nurse cowered away, turning her shoulders and holding the bundle closer, as if to shield the baby from the sight of him.

Courtney reached out a hand, motioning for the infant. He didn’t know exactly why he did it. Of course he didn’t intend to steal the baby. Perhaps it was merely his instinct to take what someone attempted to keep from him.

The nurse looked to her mistress.

“No,” Lady Montagu said in a frightened voice.

But her tone did nothing to deter him. Courtney took the baby from the quaking nurse.

It was so small the entire body fit into his two hands.

The infant’s skin was splotched with pink and red, and a fine layer of dark fuzz covered the top of its head.

He had never seen an infant so small, let alone held one.

“Please, don’t hurt her,” Lady Montagu said.

Her. The baby made another bleating sound, then screwed up her face and opened her eyes.

She appeared to be looking directly at him, and the sight made Courtney draw in a breath, his heart wrenching.

He was entirely smitten by her deep blue eyes.

Something he hadn’t felt before reared up inside him. A longing.

Courtney swallowed over a lump in his throat.

He had always imagined his life would involve fatherhood, but given his age and his profession, the prospect had now become not only unlikely but also unfeasible.

How had so much of his life slipped away?

The absence of children of his own opened like a chasm inside him.

And once he recognized it, he realized it had been there all along.

“What is her name?” His soft voice was so unlike his usual tone that he almost didn’t recognize it.

“Annabelle,” her mother said. “Lady Annabelle Bradford.”

“Annabelle,” he whispered. But the name felt too formal as he looked at her. Belle, he thought. He would call her Belle.

A small fist punched out of the blankets as Belle twisted and stretched. She yawned, her tiny mouth opening into an O. As she turned her head, he saw a fold in the rim of her right ear.

Courtney had never seen anything so precious. His instinct demanded he hold her close and spirit her away, but that was foolishness. He wouldn’t take this infant from her mother. He was not a monster. But try as he might, he simply couldn’t leave her.

“Please,” Lady Montagu said. She sat up, pale-faced and wincing, leaning forward with outstretched arms.

In her expression, Courtney saw the same raw emotion that was wreaking havoc through his insides. He looked back at Belle, knowing he must return her to her mother, but the thought sparked an ache behind his breastbone.

“Lady Montagu,” he said, once he was certain he could control his voice. “I will not take your child. But for this, there is a price to be paid.”

The woman narrowed her eyes, but she could not entirely hide the longing in her expression.

“In exchange for her life and yours”—he glanced toward the nurse—“and all on this ship, I have a demand.” He looked back at Belle. Her eyes were closed, and fine dark lashes fanned over her cheeks. He lowered his voice so as not to wake her.

“This child is of the sea, born in Neptune’s realm, and to the sea she will return—though it be merely for a season each year.”

Lady Montagu’s brow raised, but she didn’t interrupt.

“I will come for her in five years’ time,” Courtney said. “And each spring after.”

She frowned, shaking her head. “If you think I will agree to send my daughter off with a band of cutthroats while they plunder and murder, you are quite mistaken.”

The lady had a point. This life was hardly suitable for a little girl. Though his captain’s intuition whispered that Belle would grow up to be fierce in her own way.

“I understand,” he said. “And I give you my word, neither I nor my crew will engage in any questionable activities whatsoever while she is aboard. In fact, the child will have no hint as to our real occupation. Friendly sailors, we shall be to her, and nothing else.”

Her ladyship’s expression remained skeptical.

“She will be perfectly safe,” he added. “And of course she may bring a companion to ensure it.” He lifted a chin toward the nurse.

“And to be blunt, my lady, you don’t actually have a choice in this.

Everything on this ship now belongs to me.

Including you. Including her. If you refuse, I will simply take her now. ”

He looked back at the baby. Belle’s lips moved in her sleep, and she seemed to smile, although she couldn’t possibly know what they were saying. Courtney told himself that she was pleased with the arrangement.

Lady Montagu was silent for a long moment. She drew in a deep breath and sighed, glowering. “As you say, I have no choice. I accept your terms, Captain Courtney. But that does not mean you have my respect. You are and ever will be a criminal of the most reprehensible ilk.”

Courtney figured that was as favorable of an agreement as he could expect.

He returned his attention to the infant and tried to commit everything about her to memory.

Her hand rested now beneath her chin on the fold of the blanket, and he marveled at the tiny fingers.

He lifted Belle closer until their faces were mere inches apart.

He felt ridiculous at the moisture pooling in his eyes.

“Until we meet again,” he whispered through a tight throat.

Then he laid Belle into her mother’s arms.

The woman’s face softened as she gazed at her infant, and her shoulders relaxed.

Courtney felt a bit of guilt. He really should not have frightened her as he had. But he did not allow the feeling to deter him. He knew Lady Montagu would keep her promise, whether she wished to or not. His reputation was such that she knew what he was capable of if his terms were not met.

He departed without another word, closing the door softly and leaving behind a piece of his heart.