But Anthony went a bit further. He conceded, “All right, Regan for tonight.”
James hit one ear with the palm of his hand. “I think there must be something wrong with my hearing.”
“Bloody hell,” Anthony said with a half growl, half chuckle. “Just get on with your story before I fall asleep. Ah, wait, here’s our second bottle.”
“You’re not thinking of getting me foxed again, are you?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Anthony said as he filled both their glasses to the brim.
“I believe that’s what you said the last time we were here at White’s, but as I recall, your friend Amherst had to carry us both home…in the middle of the afternoon. You never did tell what the little wife had to say about that.”
“Quite a bit, thank you, none of it worth repeating,” Anthony replied sourly.
James’s hearty laugh brought a number of stares to their table. “I honestly don’t know what’s happened to your finesse, dear boy. You’ve been in the lady’s bad graces ever since the second day of your marriage, simply because you couldn’t convince her that that little barmaid who’d squirmed all over your lap for those few minutes wasn’t yours for the evening. It was devilish bad luck that the wench left some yellow hair on your lapel for the wife to find, but didn’t you tell Roslynn you were only in that tavern on her behalf, searching for her Cameron cousin?”
“Certainly.”
“Then you still haven’t told her the wench was mine, not yours?”
Anthony shook his head stubbornly. “And I’m not going to, either. It should have been enough that I’d told her nothing happened, that the offer was made and I’d refused it. It’s still a matter of trust…but I believe we’ve had this conversation before, and right here, at that. Quit worrying about my love life, brother. My little Scottish bride will come around. I’m working on it in my own way. So let’s get back to your grand confession, shall we?”
James reached for his glass first, keeping pace with Anthony. “As I’d said, I was annoyed with Jason for refusing to let me even see Regan.”
“Was he supposed to have allowed it? You’d already been pirating for two years.”
“I may have been raising hell on the high seas, Tony, but I hadn’t changed personally. He knew bloody well I would have left behind anything to do with the Hawke had he allowed me to see her. But he’d disowned me for taking to the seas and disgracing the family as it were, though no one inside England or out knew Captain Hawke and James Malory, viscount of Ryding, were one and the same. Jason had made his stand and wouldn’t back down, so what was I to do? Never see her again? Regan’s like a daughter to me. We all raised her.”
“You could have given up pirating,” Anthony pointed out reasonably.
James grinned slowly. “Follow Jason’s dictates? When did I ever? Besides, I was having a devilish good time playing the pirate. There was the challenge, the danger, but more, I brought discipline back into my life, and for that matter, possibly saved my health. I’d been getting quite dissipated and jaded before I quit London. We’d had our fun, aye, but there was no challenge left save getting in some lady’s skirts, and even that no longer mattered when it came right down to it. Hell and fire, no one would even call me out anymore to alleviate the monotony, I’d gotten such a deadly reputation.”
Anthony burst out laughing. “You’re making my heart bleed, old man.”
James tipped the bottle this time. “Drink up, you ass. You’ve more sympathy when you’re drunk.”
“I don’t get drunk. Tried to tell the wife that, but she wouldn’t believe me. So you went to sea and lived the clean, healthy life of a pirate.”
“Gentleman pirate,” James corrected.
Anthony nodded. “Quite right. Shouldn’t miss the distinction. What is the distinction, by the way?”
“I’ve never sunk a ship, nor taken one without giving her a sporting chance. I’ve lost a lot of fat prizes that way, letting them elude me, but I never claimed to be a successful pirate, just a persistent one.”
“Confound you, James, it was only a game to you, wasn’t it? And you deliberately let Jason think you were out there raping and pillaging and feeding men to the sharks!”
“Well, why not? He’s not altogether happy unless he’s got one of us to condemn. And better me than you, since I don’t give a bloody damn, while you, on the other hand, do.”
“Now that’s a fine attitude to take,” Anthony said sarcastically.
“D’you think so?” James smiled and downed his drink. Anthony was quick to refill it. “But then it’s the same one I’ve always had.”
“I suppose,” Anthony conceded reluctantly. “You were defying and deliberately provoking Jason for as long as I can remember.”
James shrugged. “So what is life without its little stimulations, dear boy?”
“I think you just enjoy seeing Jason fly through the roof. Admit it.”
“Well, he does it so well, don’t you think?”
Anthony grinned and then chuckled. “All right, so the whys and wherefores no longer matter. You’ve been accepted back into the fold, forgiven all, as it were. But you still haven’t answered my question about the thrashing you took.”
That golden brow arched again. “Haven’t I? Must be because I keep getting interrupted.”
“So I’ll shut my trap.”
“An impossibility.”
“James…”
“Come now, Tony, just put yourself in my place and you’ll have your answer. It’s not so very complicated, after all. I wanted my equal time with our darling niece, Regan. I thought she’d enjoy seeing a bit of the world, which she did, by the way. But much as I loved having her with me, I realized the folly of what I’d done before I brought her back. Not that I was an active pirate while I had her. But the sea offers no guarantees. Storms, other pirates, enemies I’ve made, anything is possible. The risk to her was minimal, but it was still there. And had anything happened to Regan…”
“Good God, the unconscionable James Malory plagued by guilt? No wonder I could never figure it out.”
“I do have my moments, it would seem,” James said dryly, giving Anthony a disgusted look for sitting there laughing.
“What did I say?” Anthony asked innocently. “Never mind. Here, have another drink.” And the bottle was tipped again. “You know,” he added thoughtfully with a grin. “Between me exposing the dear girl to my jaded friends when I had her to myself each year—all on their best behavior, mind you—and you exposing her to a crew of cutthroats—”
“Who all adored her and were very polite cutthroats while she was on board.”
“Yes, well, she certainly had a well-rounded education with our help.”
“Hadn’t she though? So how is it she ended up married to a bounder like Eden?”
“The puss loves him, more’s the pity.”
“I figured that much out for myself.”
“Come now, James, you just don’t like him because he’s too much like us, and anyone like us isn’t good enough for our Reggie.”
“Beg to differ, dear boy, but that’s why you don’t like him. I took exception to the bloody insults he threw in my face as he sailed away from the encounter I had with him all those years ago at sea, insults that came after he’d already disabled my ship.”
“But you attacked him,” Anthony pointed out, having heard most of the details of that sea battle already, including the fact that James’s son was injured in it, which was why James had given up pirating altogether.
“Beside the point,” James insisted. “And anyhow, he added insult to injury when he landed me in gaol last year.”
“After you’d thrashed the daylights out of him. And didn’t you say Nicholas had also put up the blunt for your escape before he took off for the West Indies? Because of a guilty conscience, wasn’t it?”
“To hear him tell it, it was because he would have missed the hanging.”
Anthony hooted. “That soun
ds like him, the arrogant puppy. But give credit where it’s due, brother. If you hadn’t been arrested, courtesy of our nephew-by-marriage, you wouldn’t have been able to arrange Hawke’s supposed demise so neatly, thereby getting the price off your head and burning your bridges behind you. You can now walk the streets of London again without looking over your shoulder.”
That deserved the draining of another glassful. “When did you start defending that young cockerel?”
“Good God, is that what I was doing?” Anthony looked utterly horrified. “Beg your pardon, old boy. It won’t happen again, you may depend upon it. He’s a blighter through and through.”
“But Regan makes him pay for it,” James said with a gloating smile.
“How’s that?”
“He ends up sleeping on the sofa each time he crosses words with one of us and she happens to overhear it.”
“The devil you say.”
“It’s true. Told me himself. You’ll really have to visit those two more often while I’m gone.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Anthony laughed. “Eden on the sofa. Gad, that’s rich.”
“No more amusing than the muddle you’re in with your own wife.”
“Now don’t start in on me again.”
“Wouldn’t think of it. But I do hope you’ll have smoothed the waters before I return in a few months, since I’ll be taking Jeremy off your hands then, and that, dear boy, will leave you no buffer. Just you and the little Scot…alone.”
Anthony’s smile was quite confident and a little bit wicked. “You will hurry back, won’t you?”
Chapter Nine
The whole family had turned out to see James off—Jason and Derek, Edward and his whole brood, Anthony and his little Scot, who was looking quite peaked, but understandably so, since Anthony had recently been told he was to be a father. That scamp, Jeremy, was in high spirits, despite the fact this was the first time he would be separated from James since he’d been found six years ago. He was probably thinking he’d be getting away with murder now, with only his Uncle Tony to keep him in line. He’d find out soon enough that Jason and Eddie boy would be keeping an eye on him, too. He’d be reined in as tight if not tighter than he had been under James and his first mate Conrad’s supervision.
The tide put an end to the goodbyes. James’s hangover, which he could blame Anthony for, wouldn’t take much more back-pounding anyway. But it had also almost made him forget the note he had jotted off for the little Scot, explaining to her about the barmaid she had accused her husband of bedding. He called Jeremy up the gangplank and handed it to him.
“See your Aunt Roslynn gets this, but not when Tony’s around.”
Jeremy pocketed the note. “It’s not a love letter, is it?”
“A love letter?” James snorted. “Get out of here, puppy. And see you—”
“I know, I know.” Jeremy threw up his hands, laughing. “I won’t do anything you wouldn’t.”
He ran back down the gangplank before James could take him to task for his impudence. But he was smiling as he turned away, and came face-to-face with Conrad Sharpe, his first mate and best friend.
“What was that about?”
James shrugged, realizing Connie had seen him pass the note. “I decided to lend a hand after all. At the rate Tony’s going, he’d be floundering forever.”
“I thought you weren’t going to interfere,” Connie reminded him.
“Well, he is my brother, isn’t he? Though why I bother after the dirty trick he played on me last night, I don’t know.” At Connie’s raised brow, he grinned, despite the slow throb in his head. “Made sure I’d be feeling miserable today to cast off, the bloody sod.”
“But you went along with it, naturally?”
“Naturally. Couldn’t have the lad drinking me under the table, now, could I? But you’ll have to see us off, Connie. I’m afraid I’m done for. Report to me in my cabin after we’re under way.”
An hour later, Connie poured a measure of rye from the well-stocked cabinet in the captain’s cabin and joined James at his desk. “You’re not going to worry about the boy, are you?”
“That rascal?” James shook his head, wincing slightly when his headache returned, and took another sip of the tonic Connie had had sent from the galley. “Tony will see Jeremy doesn’t get into any serious scraps. If anyone will worry, it’s you. You should have had one of your own, Connie.”
“I probably do. I just haven’t found him yet like you did the lad. You’ve probably more yourself that you don’t know about.”
“Good God, one’s enough,” James replied in mock horror, gaining a chuckle from his friend. “Now what have you to report? How many of the old crew were available?”
“Eighteen. And there was no problem filling the ranks, except for the bo’s’n, as I told you before.”
“So we’re sailing without one? That’ll put a heavy load on you, Connie.”
“Aye, if I hadn’t found a man yesterday, or rather, if he hadn’t volunteered. Wanted to sign on as passengers, him and his brother. When I told him the Maiden Anne don’t carry passengers, he offered to work his way across. A more persistent Scot I’ve never seen.”
“Another Scot? As if I ain’t had enough to do with them lately. I’m bloody well glad your own Scottish ancestors are so far back you don’t remember them, Connie. Between hunting down Lady Roslynn’s cousin and running into that little vixen and her companion—”
“I thought you’d forgotten about that.”
James’s answer was a scowl. “How do you know this Scot knows the first thing about rigging?”
“I put him though the paces. I’d say he’s had the job before. And he does claim to have sailed before, as quartermaster, ship’s carpenter, and bo’s’n.”
“If that’s true, he’ll come in right handy. Very well. Is there anything else?”
“Johnny got married.”
“Johnny? My cabin boy, Johnny?” James’s eyes flared. “Good God, he’s only fifteen! What the devil does he think he’s doing?”
Connie shrugged. “Says he fell in love and can’t bear to leave the little woman.”
“Little woman?” James sneered. “That cocky little twit needs a mother, not a wife.” His head was pounding again, and he swilled down the rest of the tonic.
“I’ve found you another cabin boy. MacDonell’s brother—”
Tonic spewed across James’s desk. “Who?” he choked.
“Blister it, James, what’s got into you?”
“You said MacDonell? Would his first name be Ian?”
“Aye.” Now Connie’s eyes flared. “Good God, he’s not the Scot from the tavern, is he?”
James waved away the question. “Did you get a good look at the brother?”
“Come to think of it, no. He was a little chap, though, quiet, hiding behind his brother’s coattails. I didn’t have much choice in signing him on, what with Johnny only letting me know two days ago that he was staying in England. But you can’t mean to think—”
“But I do.” And suddenly James was laughing. “Oh, God, Connie, this is priceless. I went back to look for that little wench, you know, but she and her Scot had disappeared from the area. Now here she’s fallen right into my lap.”
Connie grunted. “Well, I can see you’re going to have a pleasant crossing.”
“You may depend upon it.” James’s grin was decidedly wolfish. “But we shan’t unmask her disguise just yet. I’ve a mind to play with her first.”
“You could be wrong, you know. She might be a boy after all.”
“I doubt it,” James replied. “But I’ll find out when she begins her duties.”
He slumped back in his comfortably padded chair when Connie left him. He was still grinning, still marveling at the incredible piece of chance that had led the little wench and her Scot to pick his ship out of all those available, especially when it made no sense a ’tall.
Connie said they’d tried to buy passage first,
so they must have money. Why not just find another ship? James knew of at least two English vessels that would soon be departing for the West Indies, and one of them had ample accommodations for passengers. Why go to the trouble of disguising the girl and taking the risk she’d be discovered? Or was it a disguise? Hell and fire, the last time he’d seen her, she’d been done up the same. It could be her normal way of dress…no, he was forgetting her upset when Tony had announced that she was a woman, not a man. She’d been hiding her sex then, was hiding it now—or hoped to do so.
His cabin boy. What nerve she had! James shook his head, chuckling.
It was going to be interesting indeed to see how she planned to get away with it. A poorly lit tavern was one thing, but on a ship, in the bright light of day? And yet she’d obviously fooled Connie. Maybe she could have gotten away with it if James hadn’t met her once before. But he had, and he hadn’t forgotten the meeting, remembered it quite well, in fact; her cute little backside that had so intrigued him, a tender breast that had fit so nicely in his hand. Her features had been exquisitely delicate: the perfectly molded cheekbones, the pert little nose, the wide, sensual lips. He hadn’t seen her brows, nor a bit of her hair, but for those few moments when she’d finally looked up at him outside that tavern, he had become lost in velvety-brown eyes.
He’d gone back not once but half a dozen times trying to find her in the last month. He realized now why he’d had no luck. No one knew anything of the pair because they’d never been in that area before, likely never even been to London before. It would be a safe bet to assume they were from the West Indies and now returning home, rather than the other way around. MacDonell might be a Scot, but the wench wasn’t. James hadn’t been able to place her distinctive accent, but English it wasn’t, of that he was certain.