Pirate Wolf Trilogy (16 page)

“Lucifer?
Likable? He spends most of his days terrorizing everyone on
board.”

“He is leery of
strangers, leery of their motives. He had a family, a wife and
three sons, all of whom died beside him, slaving in the mines of
Mexico.”

Beau chewed her
lip. “And Mister Pitt? He seems another odd sort to be sailing the
high seas—especially since he does not appear to enjoy the sea all
that much.”

Dante offered a
wry grin. “You should see him in heavy weather.”

“I have. You
slept like a babe through it; he turned as green as grass and hung
over the rail for two days.”

“Ahh, yes, but
put a gun in his hands, the bigger the better, and he has no equal
on this earth. He designed those demis, cast the bronze himself,
and trained my crews to give me three shots per minute, rough seas
or smooth.” He grinned suddenly. “But if you think Pitt and Lucifer
are odd, it is a pity you never met our helmsman, Ivory Brighton.
He lost his eye to a misfired musket and replaced it with a ball
carved from an elephant tusk. He also had two thumbs on his left
hand and a nose so long and hooked, he could scratch the tip with
his bottom teeth.”

Beau almost
smiled. “Admirable qualities. I’m sure I will regret not making his
acquaintance until the day I die.”

“I know he
would regret not making yours, for I’m sure he would have thought
it impossible for a woman to hold a ship this size on a steady
course, let alone throw her into a heated pursuit.”

“Much like his
captain?”

“Much like his
captain,” Dante admitted, his silver eyes gleaming.

Beau felt her
skin warming again and drew a shallow breath. “My mother used to
tell me the only things truly impossible are the things you are too
afraid to try.”

“Was she the
one who encouraged you to come to sea?”

“She did
nothing to discourage me, although she did insist I go to school
and learn how to deport myself like a lady.”

While Dante
struggled to hold his laughter in check, Beau planted her hands on
her hips and glared at him.

“You find the
notion amusing?”

“Not amusing;
perhaps just … difficult to envision at this precise moment.”

“It did not
seem to put too much strain on your imagination when you laid me
flat on your desk, or when you kissed me the other morning.”

The gray eyes
narrowed; then, with a disconcerting abruptness, he threw back his
head and laughed. It was a deep, lusty sound and made several of
the crew on the deck below turn and stare.

“
Ah,
mam’selle, you are indeed refreshing.” He shook his head and raked
a hand through the glossy black mane of his hair. “Your suspicions
are etched on your face as precisely as the currents on your
magnificently painted maps. May I set your mind at ease somewhat by
saying my interests in any of our conversations, past and yet to
come, are completely without any motive other than that of trying
to get to know your crew and ship a little better. I have
absolutely no interest in prying your legs apart if,
alors
, you were
willing or not. While I will confess you inspire a certain amount
of curiosity—which I have already admitted— I doubt very much your
preference for boots and doublet over silk underpinnings and satin
skirts would be enough to drive me to extremes of wild,
irrepressible lust. As it happens, I still prefer my women soft,
seductive, and eager to do more with their mouths than scowl all
the time.”

Beau’s flush
grew hot enough to become painful. “I am relieved to hear it,
Captain. Does this mean I will not be excessively plagued with your
company in the days and weeks to come?”

“It means I
will save you the trouble of having to scurry from one end of the
ship to the other every time you see me on deck. Moreover, I
apologize wholeheartedly now for distracting you from your work.”
He offered an exaggerated bow. “I came to ask only if you might be
interested in joining the rest of your crew below. Pitt was about
to give them a lesson in firing the thirty pounders and your father
suggested it might be of some interest to you as well. But since
you are so busy with your paints…” He shrugged and started back
toward the ladderway.

Beau clamped
her jaw tight against the urge to hurl the vilest epithet she could
think of at his broad back. He knew damned well she was as
interested as any other crewman on board, just as he knew she would
have put aside her paints in a snap. But she did not stop him and
he did not look back as he descended to the main deck and strode
into the midst of the gathered men. The lure of the demi-cannon was
a sore temptation to have to pit against her own pride, but she
would stand before a smoking muzzle and let the shot blast straight
through her heart before she would give the arrogant Captain Simon
Dante, Comte de Tourville, the satisfaction of seeing her run after
him like a beggar.

He
was
arrogant. And far too sure of
himself for her liking. Just the way he cocked his head and smiled
with such self-serving belligerence proved he did not think anyone
on board this ship to be his equal, or even worthy of his
consideration. Most infuriating of all was the patronizing, amused
manner with which he regarded her position on board the
Egret.
It made her fervently wish for
a glimpse of sails on the horizon.

And, whether it
was because she wished for it so hard, or because the booming
thunder of the huge guns had rolled to the edge of the horizon and
attracted other searching eyes, it was less than an hour later that
the watchman sounded an alert from his perch high in the tops.

“Sails,
Captain! Sails off the larboard bow!”

CHAPTER
NINE

“Well, she’s a
Spaniard, no mistake,” Spence pronounced.

“Six hundred
tons or more, to judge by the size of her.” Dante stood on the deck
beside Jonas Spence, his hand raised to shield his eyes against the
glare of the sun. “I make out two tiers of guns, probably perriers
and quarter cannon—impressive, but only if they get within decent
range.”

The swift
excitement that had brought him to the rail had waned somewhat when
it became clear the ship they had sighted on the westerly horizon,
running parallel to them, was not the Talon. It was therefore with
a more critical and practical eye that he continued, pointing
disgustedly at the huge silhouette, dominated fore and aft by
castellated superstructures. “They pile up six storeys worth of
fancy cabins all gilt and mahogany, filled with furniture as fine
as any king’s courtesan ever graced, and expect to draw more than
eight knots from the wind. Even the balconies on the stern
galleries are painted with gold and carved by the same men who
fashion their cathedrals and churches.

“At the same
time, they have to keep them as deep and broad as possible in the
belly to hold the several tons of cargo as well as the three or
four hundred soldiers they ferry around. Another hundred or so
sailors are needed to crew her and the same again to man the guns,
for God forbid any among them should know how to do two jobs. The
soldiers sit with their hands warming their cockles until the
sailors bring them into grappling range. By then the gunners are
spent and have to take their leisure while their fancy
conquistadores wave swords and slash throats in the name of the
Catholic Christ. Stupidity, if you ask me. Sheer mindless
stupidity.”

“Aye. We could
circle her half a dozen times,” Spence snorted derisively, “before
she could even line her guns on us.”

“We have a fair
wind behind us,” Dante mused, almost to himself. “How much speed do
you think we could put into the sheets?”

Spence turned
to his left and frowned at Simon Dante. “Fifteen. Eighteen if we
mount extra canvas on the tops an’ fores—an’ if the ship’s in the
mood.”

The pale blue
eyes narrowed. “What would it take to get her in the mood?”

Spence arched
his brows. “A bitch the size o’ that one comin’ over the horizon
will surely do it. We’ll be able to outrun her without raisin’ a
sweat.”

“Assuming you
were of a mind to outrun her,” Dante said quietly.

Spence stared
at him for a moment, then glanced at the approaching galleon.
“Ye’re not suggestin’ we could go up against her alone?”

“
The
Virago
went up
against six of them alone—not as large as that bitch, to be sure,
but daunting nonetheless. Had she been sound or had we a fellow
captain with a spine sturdier than Victor Bloodstone, we would have
sunk the lot on the first pass. You can see for yourself, she’s
slow and wallowing. Slower than usual and wallowing more because of
a full hold than because of a few fancy cabins. You said your bays
were unhappily emptier than you like to see them. Would it improve
your humor to see them filled with crates of Spanish
ducats?”

“Spanish
ducats?” Spence’s tone changed instantly. “Ye think she’s carryin’
treasure?”

“I
think—calling on some measure of experience in such things—she is
not out here for a pleasure cruise. If it is true the King of Spain
is building an invasion fleet, he will no longer be able to afford
the luxury of having his full flota of treasure ships linger in
Panama until all their holds are filled. My guess is, as soon as
three or four galleons are loaded, they are sent on their way back
to Lisbon, with only a small escort, relying on their size and
firepower to frighten off any mad-minded freebooters. This one has
obviously become separated from the flock by some means or
another.”

“At least ye’ve
used the right term to describe yerself,” Spit grumbled, mindful of
keeping Spence’s bulk between them as a shield. “Only a madman
would take on a ship four times his size.”

Spence was
still mulling over Dante’s opinion of Victor Bloodstone’s spine.
“I’ve ten guns. She has”—he lifted an enormous, hairy paw of a hand
and smoothed it over his bald pate—“thirty or more!”

“You’re
forgetting my demi-cannon. You can pepper her from three hundred
yards out while our papist friends can only spit vitriol past
eighty. What’s more, double shot my bronze beauties with
incendiaries and you’ll have the Spaniard’s sails down and her
decks burning by the second pass.”

“There wouldn’t
be somethin’ more in this, would there? Like sailin’ home to
England with a bloody big prize in tow so ye could thumb yer nose
at the Queen’s counsellor’s nephew?”

Dante’s face
hardened. “I have already told you my quarrel with Victor
Bloodstone is my own.”

“Aye, an’ it’s
a quarrel ye’ll not have a penny’s worth chance o’ resolvin’ at sea
if we take time out to shake our fists at yon Spaniard.”

“With no insult
to your ship or crew, the chances of catching him in open water
were slim at best. That being the case, the decision is yours
whether you sail home with a few tuns of Indies Gold … or with your
flags raised and your guns blazing to call the guild merchants to
the quay.”

Spence locked
the younger man’s gaze with his own until his eyes began to burn.
The lure of Spanish bullion was surely tempting, but they were
outmanned, outgunned …

“Spit?”

The wiry little
man grumbled and scratched savagely at the spikes of hair that grew
across the back of his head. “I think ye’d be madder than a Bedlam
inmate if ye tried to take on a lumberin’ Goliath the likes o’ that
out there. She’ll chew us up an’ spit us out like fodder.”

Spence squinted
into the sunlight. “Mad, eh? Jaysus an’ all the saints be damned,
but I’d piss blood to have a little taste o’ madness about now. How
are we for shot an’ powder?”

Spit swore
under his breath and glared at Simon Dante. “We’ve plenty o’ both
to have ye pissin’ blood, if that’s yer pleasure.”

“It might well
be. Beau!”

She was right
behind him. “Aye, sir?”

“Do ye think it
would be possible to take us on a few turns around that comely
Spanish sow?”

The first
shadow of hesitation flickered in Dante’s eyes as he glanced her
way and Beau could see the doubt, the stirrings of an objection,
even as she stared him down through her reply. “The wind is steady
from the west. The seas are moderate, the horizon clear in all
directions. Aye, sir. I can give you as many passes as you need, as
close or as wide as you order them.”

“
And
spines?”
Spence
shouted over his shoulder. “Do they stand sturdy enough, do ye
think?”

An eager
cheer of approval went up from the crew. Those close enough to have
overheard the conversation on the forecastle had been relaying it
word for word to those behind and their excitement was almost
palpable. After five days of being regaled with the bold adventures
of the
Virago
, if Simon
Dante said the Spaniard carried gold and if he thought the risk
worth taking, who were they to stand in the way of a possible
fortune?

“Clear the
decks, then,” Spence roared. “Gunners, ready yer stores. Helmsman,
set every square o’ canvas she’ll carry an’ bring me alongside her
beam at three hundred yards, not a lick less.”

“Aye, sir!”

“Six hundred
bloody tons,” Spence muttered as chaos erupted around him. “I hope
ye’re right about this, Cap’n Dante. I’ve no desire to set my teeth
against the bite o’ an Inquisitor’s crimpin’ iron.”

The pirate wolf
grinned. “Your permission for Pitt and me to take charge of the
demis, Captain?”

“Aye. Ye have
it. Take what lads o’ mine ye might need on the tackle if some o’
yer own are still shy on strength.”

“Never on
courage, though, as you will see.”