Wrong Kind of Paradise

Wrong Kind of Paradise

Suzie Grant

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or

dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Wrong Kind of Paradise

Copyright © 2011 by Suzie Grant

Cover Design by Melissa Hartsell

Edited by Mindy Moore

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical

means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written

permission.

For more information: www.suziegrantauthor.com

Even the Hell’s Angel needs a guardian and English Privateer Blac Barclay is unwillingly recruited

for the job in this high seas adventure.

Blac must choose between revenge against the British Lieutenant who’d ruined his family or

keeping his word to the pirate who’d saved his life. Escorting the pirate’s daughter to her grandfather’s

care becomes impossible when the little wanton steals his ship. Ordered by the lieutenant to retrieve the

woman they call the Hell’s Angel, Blac is determined to honor his word to his friend and use the

wayward wanton as bait. But will his plan cost him the only woman to ever steal his heart?

When Angel De’haviland’s father is imprisoned with charges of piracy, the pirate’s daughter

commandeers a British privateer’s ship and plans to kidnap a high ranking official to ransom for her

father’s release. But her attempted abduction is foiled by the very captain whose ship she’d stolen, and

she becomes a captive herself. Now she must trust her handsome captor to free her father as he leads her

right into the Wrong Kind of Paradise.

To my wonderful critique group, the historical romance critique group. To each of you who helped

me brainstorm, corrected my horrible grammar, and contributed to this story. Thank you. And to my dad

for always showing me what a true hero should be. Special thanks to my editor Mindy Moore.

One

1689

A remote isle off the coast of Cuba

Changing Captain Barclay’s mind may not be as easy a task as Angel De’Haviland had first

imagined. Unfortunately, he continued to see her as “Logan’s daughter” and the more she tried to convince

him she’d grown during his absence, the more distant he seemed. Now how to accomplish such a feat

when the man had damn near killed himself trying to avoid her?

The privateer waded his way to shore as more and more of his men gathered around her. Waist-

deep in pale, cerulean water the man took her breath away. Sunlight glistened off the droplets on his chest

and shoulders. Such a delicious vision of bronzed maleness. Unfortunately, he still considered her a child,

despite the fact that she’d passed her eighteenth year last summer. So one question remained: how to

change his mind?

A frown marred the good captain’s features. Of course, her actions over the last several days had

probably tried his patience to no end. He would surely accuse her of distracting his crew again albeit the

only person she
intended
to distract was him.

Angel grinned and flipped her ashen locks over one shoulder. With her legs braced wide she

taunted one of his crewmembers, “
En garde
, Eric.” She raised the cutlass and waved it in a figure-eight.

“Now, we’ll see who is the better man.”

The first clang of metal split the high-pitched chatter of the Jamaican Becards in the distance. Eric

raised a single brow. “If yer a man, then I must have drunk too much of that swill served in the Black

Lagoon.”

A small crowd of the ship’s crew gathered around, shouting bets. “Thirty shillings on Angel!”

“Ye ain’t got that much, Strider, ye bleedin’ freeloader.”

Shouldering his way into the throng of men, Blac grabbed Strider’s shirt and pushed him aside. “Get

back to work.”

“What do I get if I win?” Eric asked as they paused with swords straining between one another. The

waggle of his brows clearly stated he expected more than any modest woman should give. The tell-tale

leers and soft laughter of the others all confirmed what Eric had on his mind. This time her plan would

work, judging by the very jealous captain’s scowl as his brows drew so closely together he resembled a

hawk.

“What do you want?” Her tone didn’t inquire; it seduced.

Delighted, Angel smothered another grin. She’d certainly caught Blac off-guard since his return.

Perhaps, she simply enjoyed punishing him for all those years he’d ignored her. Either way, she’d never

dreamed she could hold this much power over him, but with the discovery, she simply couldn’t resist

taunting him.

Angel had never behaved this way before but once she unleashed the temptress within, she would

not be locked away again.
I’ve loved this man half of my life now.
Captain Barclay would fall in love

with her. One way or another.

Eric sent a wary glance in Blac’s direction and performed a mock bow. “Only a littl’ jig with the

most beautiful lady ‘ere tonight,” Eric said, deflecting her next assault with a return jab.

Caving under the captain’s warning glare, Eric refused to play along with her. Blac nodded and

turned back to the ship.
Hmm, we shall just see about that, Blac Barclay.
She would not be ignored so

easily.

Angel cocked a brow. “And here I thought you’d request a kiss in a dark corner somewhere. I

looked forward to having a heated embrace with a real man who knows just what a woman needs. But

alas, you’re playing the gentlemen with me.”

Blac whipped around to glare at her. Young Eric’s eyes rounded then roved across her figure,

heating to a degree that should’ve blistered her skin. When he opened his mouth to speak, Angel skipped

away. “Ahh, too late! You’ve lost your chance, so a dance ‘tis.”

Both of the captain’s brows rose as his mouth dropped open in shock, and Angel giggled.
You are

mine for the taking, Blac Barclay. You just don’t realize it quite yet.

~*~

Angel had become a threat. To herself.

At eighteen, the lass had turned into a flirt and a perpetual tease. Privateer Blac Barclay, imagined

nothing short of a good, old-fashioned paddling would cease Angel’s scandalous behavior.

He sighed
. I need to save Angel’s wayward neck again.

Her father, Logan, had asked him to keep her entertained today, but the task was proving impossible

as the only distraction came from her.
How the hell am I supposed to keep my men on task with her

around?

The Serpent, a double-masted Brigatine, lay on her side while members of his crew — or the

members who were still on task — scraped the barnacles from her hull. They had less than two weeks to

get the chore done and get off this isle. Unfortunately, his escapades with the pirate’s daughter were just

beginning, as unbeknownst to her, she would be traveling with him.

Angel remained unaware of the incident that had changed the course of her life. Logan would send

someone when Angel’s belongings were packed, but he had seen no sign of them yet. Until then, he just

had to keep her busy.

But that was proving to be a task unto itself.

Reluctant to make his way through the crowd to stop the unfolding scene, despite his conviction he

must, Blac watched the opponents face off with a mix of curiosity and raw lust.

The dueling pair circled each other inside the perimeter of the gathered crowd. They danced across

the sand in perfect timing. Sunlight glinted off the matching cutlasses, and the rhythmic clanging escalated

with the ever-increasing shouts of his men.

Eric pounced with a series of attacks. “Either way, I get to hold you in me arms.”

“I wait with bated breath,” Angel said, slashing with a single swipe. The impact sent Eric back,

protecting his midsection.

She retreated several steps and allowed him to follow her. In midstride, she attacked again, her

stance solid and her skill unbelievable. But of course why shouldn’t it be? After all, Blac had been the

one to teach her.

Three years ago, Blac had left behind a skinny, knock-kneed young lass who, despite her lack of

size, could best most of his men in battle. He’d returned a week ago to find a fully-matured woman who

used her feminine wiles as cleverly as her sword. The combination was as compelling as her blue-green

eyes.

But when Eric’s cutlass sliced through the thin material of her shirt across her belly exposing the

creamy skin beneath, the boy paused. Angel took advantage of the opportunity and struck his sword with

enough force it soared from his grasp. With a single sweeping kick, young Eric found himself flat on his

back.

Great move.

Blac had taught her to take advantage of every opportunity. To never underestimate an opponent no

matter their size or strength. He’d also taught her to use her wits as well as her might. The man with the

stronger sword arm could very well lose to the man with the smarter strategy.
What better strategy for a

woman than seduction?

She laughed — a magical sound. Her slender brows rose over a pair of azure blue eyes. The

muscular lad found himself at her mercy. With purpose, she propped one slender bare foot on the lad’s

chest. Her gaze settled on Blac though. “It is a pleasure to see a man flat on his back for once.”

Stunned, Blac struggled to close his gaping mouth. Two red blossoms sprouted on the young

seaman’s cheeks, whether from the embarrassment of losing to a female or lust, Blac knew not. The hot-

blooded siren smiled seductively at her crowd of men. “It is an interesting paradox of the strong suddenly

becoming the vulnerable isn’t it?”

Time to put an end to this.
Blac strode to her without hesitation, lifted and set her several feet

away. Eric rose to good-natured slaps and chuckles from the rest of the men.

Playing with a man’s emotions, sexual or otherwise, wasn’t wise. Angel couldn’t possibly

understand the consequences of her teasing. Or did she? To speak in such a way to any man, let alone a

member of his crew who were known for their shady pasts, meant Angel knew more than she should at her

age. She played the come-hither game. The only difference between her and the buxom whores hanging

out the windows in the village was that Angel was still a virgin.
Or was she?

It had been quite some time since he’d been to the isle. Perhaps the little minx had become a woman

in every sense of the word. Blac’s frown deepened. He should be happy she’d found some other sap to

chase. After all, it solved the problem of having her underfoot so often. He should be thrilled.
Shouldn’t

he?

And yet, his first instinct was to squash the competition.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Angel?” he growled from between clenched teeth.

She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, outlining their shape. Blac swallowed.

“Why must you ruin my fun?” Her tone wasn’t sulking as one would imagine. It was soft, seductive.

She didn’t complain; she challenged him.

“Why must you tempt my men?” He crossed his own arms. “Do you wish to see them punished?”