Lady Pirate (2 page)

“I mean, with him gone, ye have to make his dream come true for him. Claim the inheritance, settle down, start a family.”

Valoree was silent for a moment, then frowned. “But I do not have the money to—”

“Well, that there is true enough. That was what Jeremy was doin', earnin' the money to claim the estate. It's not been lived in since ye was a wee babe. He said he needed a fair sum to put the place to rights.”

“And he had earned it,” One-Eye put in bitterly. “More than enough to claim the land and set it to rights. We were all to have homes there,” he reminded her. “He promised all of us a cottage and a little plot of land. He—”

“The boy knows all about that, One-Eye,” Henry interrupted, silencing the first-mate.

“Aye, I know.” Valoree sighed. “But the Spaniards took the riches when they killed Jeremy.”

Henry nodded. “Aye. And that means we would have to start over.”

“Start over!” Valoree glared at him. “Eight years it took my brother to acquire that money. Do not tell me you now want to waste another eight years.”

The man hesitated at that, then cleared his throat. “Well, now, I been thinkin' on that, too. It occurs to me that out there somewhere is a Spanish galleon with yer brother's treasure on it—or someone who knows where it is. If we could just manage to find that—”

“The Spaniard with the scar!” Valoree exclaimed. Henry nodded solemnly.

“We could kill two birds with one stone. We could have revenge and settle down in England all nice and proper, too.”

“For life and vengeance,” she murmured thoughtfully.

“Aye,” the quartermaster agreed. “For our life, and Jeremy's vengeance.”

Five years later

“I'm thinkin' pink'd be nice.”

“Pink?” Valoree glared at One-Eye as he walked beside her, then glanced toward Skully as he added his thoughts on the subject.

“Redheads don't wear pink. It don't look good.”

“Aye, but the captain's in need of some real feminine-type colors to make her look less…” Another glare from Valoree made the man hesitate, then murmur diplomatically, “To make her look less captainlike. 'Sides, her hair's kind of a brown-red. It might work.”

“Forget it,” Valoree snapped. “I am not wearing pink. It's bad enough I have to put on a damn dress. It will not be a pink one.”

The two men traversing the dark London streets with her fell silent for a moment; then One-Eye murmured, “Well, what about yellow then? Yellow's real feminine. Maybe—”

“One-Eye,” Skully interrupted, then paused in his walking.

“What?” One-Eye asked irritably. He and Valoree paused, too.

“Ain't this the place?”

One-Eye and Valoree both turned to peer up at the building they now stood before. It was small, two levels, squeezed in between two other storefronts. The building's lower windows were dark, but the upper ones were filled with the soft glow of candlelight.

“Aye, this is it. Them lights upstairs is where they live,” One-Eye announced unnecessarily.

Nodding, Valoree gestured toward the door and waited. Her two crewmen glanced at each other, shrugged, then charged like two bulls spotting a red cape. Her angry cry of realization was lost in the sound of splintering wood. The door caved in under their combined weight, fragments flying in every direction.

Grimacing, Valoree glanced quickly up and down the street to be sure no one had witnessed the deed then followed the men into the dark interior. Inside, she found the two lying in a tangled heap on the floor.

“You were supposed to knock, you blathering idiots.”

“Well, how was we to know?” One-Eye sputtered, jumping to his feet and reaching up to be sure the patch that covered his missing eye was still in place.

“Aye,” Skully added, regaining his feet nearly as quickly as his friend, despite his peg leg. “And if that was all ye were wantin', why didn't ye do it yerself?”

“Why, indeed?” Valoree sighed as the sound of feet pounding down the stairs somewhere at the back of the building echoed through the quiet shop. The bright light of a lantern appeared a moment later, and Valoree stepped forward to stop her men from drawing their swords as the man carrying it paused in the entrance to the room. He was dressed in a long nightshirt.

For a moment it looked as if the man might swallow his own tongue as he took in the scene before him, and Valoree couldn't blame him. His shop was a shambles. Not only was there a great gaping hole where the door had once stood, but when that door had given way, Valoree's men had fallen inward, crashing into a table holding piles of fabric. All of these were now strewn across the floor. Added to that, the intimidating presence of three disreputable-looking characters now filled up the little space there was left in his small shop. The fellow took all this in, and swayed slightly as if he might swoon.

The man's reaction was understandable, Valoree supposed with a wry grimace, her gaze moving over her men. She herself was small and not very intimidating. She wore a billowing white shirt, black breeches and waistcoat, boots, and a wide belt. But One-Eye and Skully more than made up for her, what with their own dirty, less respectable clothes, Skully's oft-broken nose and peg leg, and One-Eye's patch.

“There was a bit of a mishap with your knocker,” she said pleasantly in an effort to calm the man. He was shaking so hard that the light from his lantern was wavering, making shadows dance on the wall. One-Eye gave a guffaw at that, and she turned to glare at him briefly, then glanced back to the shopkeeper. Rather than appearing reassured, the man had merely stepped warily back the way he had come, looking fit to burst into a run at any moment. And most likely he'd be screaming for the authorities at the top of his lungs.

Shifting impatiently, Valoree held out a hand toward One-Eye, who immediately unhooked the bag that hung from his belt and dropped it into her hand. She promptly sent it sailing across the room. The coins in the bag jangled merrily as they sailed through the air, and the man's backward motions stopped abruptly.
Nearly dropping his lantern, the shopkeeper reached instinctively to catch the purse.

“I am in need of some dresses,” Valoree announced dryly.

The little tailor looked startled at that announcement, then weighed the bag in his hand, eyeing his guests a little less warily. “Ye broke me door.”

“My men will fix it.”

The man shifted on his feet, a calculating look coming into his eyes. “Decent folk come to me shop during the day; they don't drag a body out of his bed in the middle of the night.”

There was a tense silence during which One-Eye reached for his cutlass, but Valoree stopped him with a gesture. Instead, she held a hand out toward Skully. The cadaverous man muttered something about people disrespecting their betters, but he unhooked the bag at his own waist and handed it over. She sent that hurtling toward the greedy shopkeeper as well.

Amazingly enough, the man managed to catch the second bag without losing either the first or the lantern. Holding more gold in his hands than he had probably seen at one time in his life, he nodded accommodatingly. “Ye'll have to be bringing the wench here ye want gowned. Iffen ye don't, I cain't guarantee the dresses'll fit.”

“The dresses are for me,” Valoree announced grimly.

The shopkeeper froze at that announcement, amazement covering his face. The expression was followed by a sneer, and he began to shake his head.

“Now, that there is another situation altogether. I'll not be dressing a man in—” His words died as One-Eye drew his sword.

Sighing, Valoree caught her crewman's arm as he started forward. “Leave off,” she muttered. “You men thought me a man for years, too.”

“Aye, but we knew you as a boy. I mean, we thought we did. We just thought you was kind of a fey and delicate type.”

Valoree rolled her eyes. She supposed she should be flattered that they had at least thought her fey and delicate.

“'Sides, we wouldn't have thought that if Henry had told us the truth instead of keeping it all to himself fer so long.”

“Henry did what he had to do,” Valoree snapped, then drew off the hat she had been wearing low on her brow. Stepping forward so that the light could reach her face, she calmly addressed the shopkeeper. “I am not a man.”

Her face had been cast in shadow by the brim of her hat, but was now revealed. As she felt her hair spill down from where it had been piled, Valoree caught the dressmaker leering slightly before he saw the expressions of the men accompanying her. Swallowing any comment, he forced a blank expression to his face and nodded before turning his eyes upward. “Wife! Wife, there's work to be done!”

Valoree turned then to take in Skully and One-Eye with a glance. “Fix that door and—” Her words were cut off in surprise when the gaping hole in question was suddenly filled by a behemoth of a man. He was taller even than Skully, and much wider. There was a kerchief on his bald head, an earring in his ear, and he wore tight tan pants and a billowing white shirt that contrasted with his dark skin. “Bull,” Valoree said.

The man's dark eyes swept over the people in the room; then he stepped aside, revealing an old hag he had in tow.

“Yer aunt,” the giant rumbled, pushing the reluctant woman forward.

Valoree, One-Eye, and Skully were all silent as they stared at the woman. She looked to be in her fifties.
Her dress was torn and filthy, and her hair was the color of a dirty London street. The woman looked like an aging prostitute. Come to that, she most likely was one. Valoree shook her head grimly, turning on the man holding the creature still with one arm.

“I said someone decent, Bull,” she chided.

“This is as decent as it gets at the docks at night,” came his answer. “She'll clean up good.”

Sighing, Valoree took a step toward the woman, then paused, stepping back as she got a whiff of her. The action didn't go unnoticed by Bull's captive, who immediately drew her shoulders up defiantly. The action touched something in Valoree.

Turning to One-Eye, she held out her hand. A third bag of coins hit her palm. Valoree tossed it across the room to the already weighed-down tailor. None of them were terribly surprised when he managed to catch it without difficulty, though it required some deft readjustments. They had been told the man loved gold better than anything in the world, and it appeared the rumors were true.
Good.
Honestly, those rumors were why Valoree had chosen to use this tailor's services. That and the fact that the man was as crooked as Skully's nose. A man who would take customers who visited in the wee hours of the night, and were accompanied by such a rough lot, would be unlikely to gossip—or at least to be believed.

“The old woman will need dresses as well,” Valoree announced. “And a bath.”

The shop owner stiffened indignantly. “This ain't no inn.”

Skully had more gold out before Valoree could signal. This time she tossed the bag at the man's feet. Cursing, he jumped quickly back, then bent to retrieve it. Straightening then, he raised his head, and bellowed again. “Wife! Get yer arse out of bed!
Now!
”

 

Three hours later the shopkeeper's bellows had mellowed to tired sighs as he and his wife finished measuring Valoree for the three gowns upon which she had decided. It had taken some time to deal with the old woman, so they had done that first; dumping her in a tub, scrubbing her to a shining glow, then taking the measurements they needed before dressing her in one of the shopkeeper's wife's old gowns. Valoree was pleased to see she didn't look nearly as cheap cleaned up and in a borrowed gown. In fact, if it weren't for her surly manner, Valoree was sure the woman would be perfect for the role of her aunt. Perhaps she was not a poor choice after all.

“Arms up, please,” the shopkeeper's wife instructed, smiling with gentle sympathy at Valoree's impatient frown. “This is the last measurement,” the woman added quietly as she drew the tape around her chest.

Valoree sighed in relief. She was exhausted, so tired she felt sure she could sleep for a week, and it wasn't the hour. She was more than used to late nights—it was impossible to run a boat full of pirates without half your nights being late ones. It was this task she'd been busy with that had worn her out. There was nothing so boring to her mind as fussing over gowns and cloaks and just which material went with what. It was all a lot of bother, and a task she would have been more than happy to hand over to One-Eye or Skully…if she hadn't feared being stuck in something pink and frilly.

“Very good,” the tailor announced with relief as he wrote down the number his wife spoke. He looked tired himself, and was likely eager to have Valoree and her burly companions depart. But before she went, she needed to clear things up.

“I'll need one day gown for each of us by tomorrow. I want the other gowns the day after. The men will return for them. Make sure they are ready by noon.”

“Noon tomorrow?” the man squawked at once in horror. “But that is mere hours away! I cannot possibly—”

“You can and you will,” Valoree interrupted mildly as she began to walk toward the front of the building.

“You don't understand—” the shopkeeper began, following closely behind her.

“Aye, I do.” Valoree paused and turned to glower at him. “I understand that I have paid you well, and that I wish for two of the gowns to be done by noon tomorrow.”

“Aye, my lady, but I cannot—”

“Did I not give you enough coins for at least ten times that many garments?”

“Well, aye,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Exactly. Now, if you cannot have the gowns done when I wish, I can take my business, and my coins, elsewhere.”

The threat got the reaction she'd expected. The shopkeeper took a step back, abject horror on his face. He began to stutter. “N-nay. I-I w-will have them done. I-I w-will hire extra women to sew.”

“Good.” Turning back, Valoree glanced around the front room of the man's shop. Her sailors were playing cards on the table they'd crashed into when they'd busted the door down. Apparently they had fixed that, too, though she hadn't thought to order it. In addition, all the fabric that had originally rested on it and been strewn on the floor had been gathered and restacked on the table adjacent. The old hag, her soon-to-be aunt, was sound asleep on an old mat in a corner of the room.

Though Valoree briefly wondered how the woman could bear to sleep on the hard wooden floor with only a thin rug for cushioning, she quickly pushed the question aside. The woman had likely slept in worse
places—places and situations Valoree did not even care to think about.

Her glance slid from the old woman to Bull, who immediately straightened. Without a word from her, the immense pirate bent to lift Valoree's “aunt” in his arms, then headed for the door.

Skully scooped the cards they'd been playing with into his pocket, then hurried to open the door for his comrade. One-Eye stood too, but moved to Valoree's side. Taking a small but painfully sharp knife from his boot, he slammed it into the counter beside the tailor.

Valoree glanced at the shopkeeper and his wife meaningfully. “One-Eye's leaving that as a gift. And a reminder.”

“A reminder?” The shopkeeper was beginning to get the nervous look he'd had when he'd first come downstairs.

“Aye. A reminder not to mention this night. To anyone.”

One-Eye smiled widely then, an expression that did not quite reach his one good eye. “Keep it nice and sharp,” he said in a menacing growl. “Or keep your tongue from wagging.”