Pirate Wolf Trilogy (82 page)

“Ten years,
without success,” he mused aloud. “Perhaps, if he had condensed his
efforts into ten days, he would have had more success.”

Juliet smiled.
“Behave. Or I will stab you.”

Gabriel raised
his hands. “I am only saying aloud what most of your crew is
whispering behind their hands.”

“Let them
whisper. And when you go ashore tonight and bury your face between
the breasts of the first whore who lowers her blouse, I pray you
suffocate on your piety. Now, and again when you return to Pigeon
Cay and explain to Melissa why your prick is red and itchy. Did you
by chance meet my brother’s paramour in your wanderings on the
cay?” she asked, turning to Varian. “You could not possibly have
confused her with anyone else if you had, for she stands over six
feet tall, has breasts the size of ripe melons, and a temper hot
enough to fry an egg.”

The sudden
infusion of dark blood to Gabriel’s cheeks caused him to waver
slightly with the light-headedness.

“Yes.” He
cleared his throat. “Well.” He squinted up at the sky. “We should
get ashore just in time for a sunset.” He lowered his head again,
and after a few more moments of silence, his eyes slanting toward
Juliet. “Yes, well okay. Just be careful, that is all I’m saying.
You would not want to give a room full of freebooters any reason to
think you have gone soft, or worse, that you have been swayed by
more than just the rhetoric of the king’s envoy. I doubt Father
would be too keen on knowing it either.”

He tugged a
lock of hair by way of a salute before he wandered away to talk to
Nathan Crisp.

Juliet
only sighed and placed her hands on the rail, turning to face the
harbor. The scarlet plume in her hat was barely ruffled by the
passage of air, indicating the
Iron Rose
had slowed considerably as she glided toward an anchorage.
The
Avenger
was just
ahead, half pistol shot off their starboard side and they could
hear the running of the cables through the hawser, the splash of
the huge iron anchor as it hit the surface of the water.

“He is right,
you know. Perhaps we should—”

“Keep a modest
distance from each other? Are you afraid of shocking the
sensibilities of a tent full of privateers? Or are you afraid of
what my father might do if he found out where you have been
spending your nights?”

“I am not
afraid of your father. Not entirely, that is.” He flushed. “I just
think—”

“You think we
should behave with proper decorum outside locked cabin doors?”

Varian’s breath
caught, for her hand had slid between him and the bulwark and
cupped around his groin. “It might be prudent to show a little
restraint, yes.”

She
laughed and withdrew her hand. “Prudence
and
restraint? My, how you do test me, sirrah. Shall I
test you, then? Do you have your speech prepared? Father will not
want any time wasted on niceties. This late in the afternoon, most
the captains are likely drunk or well on their way, but first thing
in the morning, he will be tossing you to the lions and you will
have to be convincing. The fact you have arrived under his
protection will gain their initial attention, but the rest will be
up to you. If you falter or show any hesitation... ”

“What is there
to hesitate about? If these men cannot disrupt the fleet, then
England will be at war with Spain. There will not be peace on
either side of the line. And exactly who is this Van Neuk your
brother referred to?”

Juliet thought
she saw the smallest flicker of green in the midnight eyes and
almost smiled. “He is a Dutchman, Anders Van Neuk. He has been
sailing these waters nearly as long as my father and fancies there
should have been a stronger alliance made between our two families.
A brutishly handsome devil he is too. I was almost tempted, the
last time we met, to accept his last invitation to enjoy a private
dinner on board his ship.”

“What stopped
you?”

She shrugged
and answered honestly. “I’m not sure. Perhaps because every woman
in every port brags about how big he is, how tireless, how
magnificent a lover. And because if I ever did find myself carrying
someone’s bastard, I would not want it to look like every other
yellow-haired, green-eyed bastard scattered throughout the
islands.”

Varian’s
reaction to her bluntness tightened the lines around his mouth. It
was not the first time he had pondered the consequences that might
result each time he spent himself in her arms. But to hear it
stated so flatly, so matter-of-factly that she would regard any
child of his a bastard unnerved him more than if it had just
remained an unspoken thought.

Nathan Crisp
signalled from the quarterdeck and Juliet left to oversee the final
moments of dropping anchor. Varian leaned his weight on the rail
but could not stop his gaze from following her as she took the
steps to the upper deck two at a time. The wing of her cape was
folded back over one shoulder, showing a splash of crimson silk.
The blade of her sword had been polished until it shone, and
freshly honed so that it could slice a candle cleanly in half
without dislodging the top from the bottom. She was magnificent and
his feelings for her grew more terrifying every day, for what
frightened him more than any roomful of pirates, any indignant
fathers or brothers, or any war that might be looming ahead, was
the thought that he might be falling in love with her.

~~~

Anders Van Neuk
was almost a caricature of what every rascal in every ballroom in
London described as a pirate in order to titillate the females in
the audience and leave them swooning. He was tall, with incredibly
broad, square shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist and long,
powerful legs. His hair was bleached almost white by the sun and
hung in a mass of gleaming curls past his shoulders, interlaced
here and there with braids strung with beads of pure gold. Long
lashed green eyes blazed with fire. A thin, hooked nose and full
sensuous lips completed the picture and needed no help from the
studded black leather doublet and crossbelts festooned with guns
and knives of all size, weight, and description.

He was by far
the most impressive of the captains and officers gathered in the
makeshift tavern built out of wooden spars and canvas sheets.
Trestle tables had been set up on the sandy floor and busty women
with bare legs ran back and forth to the huge barrels stacked out
back to replenish mugs and pitchers with ale. There were huge fire
pits dug along the beach, the coals glowing red under spitted pigs,
goats, chickens, as well as a whole cow that had been butchered
into manageable quarters. Platters of bones and bread crumbs
littered the tables, evidence that some of the captains had been in
port a few days. Dogs fought and snapped over scraps of meat while
cabin boys set up games along the beach, being too old to be left
on board, too young to amuse themselves with the whores.

Varian took in
all the sights and smells as they walked up from the longboats.

Beacom
had taken extra care fussing with brushes to remove the smallest
specks of dust and lint from the sapphire blue doublet and cape he
wore. His stockings were without snags, his breeches were close
fitting and absent any padding or pleats. The starched ruff around
his throat was made of the finest linen crimped to quarter inch
folds, the front pinned in a descending vee over his chest by a
ruby the size of a child’s fist. Flanking him, were the Dantes, and
a more impressive display of wealth and power could not be
imagined. Also in their company was Lieutenant Jonathan Beck
wearing brand new garb that was augmented by a gold link torque and
medallion stamped with the official naval insignia. Isabeau Dante
had thought the torque was a nice touch, though Varian had not
dared to ask where she came by the medallion. He had not asked
about the wax seal that appeared on the forged papers, either, or
the signature that was identical, even to the slant and scrolled
flourishes, of James Stuart
.

Most of the
captains knew Simon Dante on sight and shouted hails over the heads
of their comrades. Some knew him only by reputation and they turned
to stare, studying each member of the pirate wolf’s party as if
they had not believed all of the stories they’d heard to date. Many
stalled when they came to Isabeau, confirming her identity with a
quick glance down at the empty sleeve, after which their interest
turned to Juliet, who simply returned their speculative stares
until their eyes were sent back to their ale.

Van Neuk parted
the crowd with long strides, presenting a wide grin that gleamed
like shark’s teeth through the neatly trimmed moustache and rusty
orange beard.

“Simon Dante,
you hoary old sea dog! Still standing before the mast, I see.”

Dante grasped a
hand studded with rings on every finger and returned the greeting.
“You’ve not kissed the gallows yet Anders? I heard they caught you
smuggling off Porto Bello last spring.”

“
A
tasteless rumor—the catching, not the smuggling. They fired a few
shots, I fired more, and wound up adding a new ship to my arsenal.
A fine young brigantine that flies like the wind. God curse my
soul, nothing that compares to a bloody great fortress like
the
Santo
Domingo
!” The glittering
eyes sought Juliet. “Is it true, lass? Is it true you were the one
to take her?”

She
cocked an eyebrow. “The
Iron Rose
and her crew took her.”

One green eye
narrowed. “Single-handedly? Your brothers were not riding off your
stern?”

Juliet
crossed her arms over her chest. “If you doubt me, I can show you
how it was done. I’ll hole your
Dove
and send you to the bottom with her.”

Van Neuk
studied her a moment, almost raping her with his eyes. “Damn me if
I’d not willingly let you hole me from the bottom or the top, lady
love.”

Juliet did not
respond to his crude humor, but he must have caught another
movement out of the corner of his eye, for the piercing gaze darted
over her shoulder and narrowed again when he saw Varian St. Clare.
“Who’s this then? Looks like you’ve brought along one of the king’s
lightskirts.”

Varian
stiffened and his hand dropped instinctively to the hilt of his
sword, but it was Gabriel who stepped forward, cutting between St.
Clare and the Dutchman. “Business can keep until tomorrow, dammit.
My mouth is as dry as camel dung in the desert and if it isn’t
wetted soon, my tongue will be stuck fast to my teeth and I will
have no way of inquiring who—God keep me sane—those two lovely
wenches were who were bouncing on your knee when we arrived.”

Van Neuk
chuckled. “‘T wasn’t my knee they were bouncing on, lad, and you’re
welcome to them if you’ve a mind, for I’ve done with my wastrel
ways. I’ve seen where my true heart lies,” he added, grinning
drunkenly at Juliet, “and I’m swearing an oath of chastity here and
now until she gives me ease.”

“Then I regret
to tell you that you will be chaste for a very long time,” Juliet
said, patting him on the chest as she brushed past. She followed
her father to a table that had been hastily cleared for their use
and tipped her head at Varian to suggest he join them while Gabriel
had the Dutchman distracted.

He sat beside
her, releasing a long breath and a disbelieving murmur. “These are
the men with whom your father purports to stop a Spanish
fleet?”

“That’s good,”
she said. “You look indignant and sceptical. That should win them
over to our cause.”

“
If I
look indignant and sceptical, it’s because I
am
indignant and sceptical. They’re coarse, they’re
filthy. They are blackguards and drunkards and... and good gracious
sweet God, what is that woman doing on her knees over
there?”

Juliet followed
his shocked glance to where a woman was locked between the thighs
of a red-faced brute, her head bobbing rapidly up and down in his
lap.

“Definitely not
behaving with prudence or restraint, I vow,” she murmured. “Are you
jealous?”

“
I
beg
your pardon?”

“Beg me later,”
she whispered through a sly smile. “And I will decide if you are
pardoned or not.”

Juliet was
still laughing softly when she turned and realized her mother had
been watching them. The golden eyes were flitting between her
daughter’s face and that of the duke’s, accompanied by a small
frown that suggested she had heard the whispers too but had not
quite believed them.

The beginnings
of a defensive flush started to creep up Juliet’s throat but it was
forestalled when several pewter mugs spilling foam down the sides
were slammed on the table, followed magically by platters of meat,
loaves of bread, plates and two large silver candelabra. Toasts
were made, welcoming the Pirate Wolf to the fold and by the time
Juliet remembered the soft query in her mother’s eyes, her own were
blurring from the laughter and the spirits.

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

The strong
shaft of sunlight struck Juliet directly in the eye, prompting her
to move her head to one side. It didn’t help. The sun was nearly
level with the western horizon and the glare was causing the
contents of her stomach to churn, her head to throb.

It had been a
necessary evil to drink to each toast made in their honor last
night, but as the evening wore on, the ale was bolstered by wine,
the wine by rum, and it had taken all of her powers of
concentration to make it back to the ship without falling out of
the longboat. She did not remember climbing up the hull to the
deck, nor did she remember getting from the deck to her cabin. When
Johnny Boy had wakened her at four in the afternoon, she was still
fully clothed, lying face down in her berth with a thin string of
spittle trailing out of her mouth.