The Mercenary Pirate (The Heart of a Hero Book 10) Page 3

  The captain glanced down at Selina once more. Her acute senses noticed everything about him—the tic in his jaw, the disgust in his eyes, his clenching fists. He was a man of action, and she fought to keep him from seeing her fear as her muscles quivered with dread and his snarl rooted her feet to the floor.

  “Fifty boxes it is,” he said.

  “Excellent!” Robillard clapped his hands, and one of his men immediately stepped forward. “You may send a message to your ship via my man, Tabor. He will deliver it. If he does not return in two hours’ time—”

  “You’ll get your payment,” the captain said. “My men are loyal. They’ll do anything I tell them to do.”

  Panic seized Selina’s heart as she studied him. Was whatever awaited her on board the Sea Wolf the lesser of two evils? Fear and grief chased each other inside her.

  Stay calm, Selina. You still have a chance to escape. One man will be easier to overcome than a horde of bloodthirsty pirates.

  Her heart raced. Every nerve in her body hummed as apprehension swept through her. Unlike the corsairs she abhorred, everything about the captain of the Sea Wolf liquefied her insides for reasons she couldn’t fathom. He was a pirate, he was dangerous . . . and he’d just bought her like a side of beef. It was no better than what Papa had done when he’d sold her into marriage to Lord Bertram Gariland to benefit his own social standing.

  But when she looked at the captain, she did not experience the same indifference as she had with Lord Gariland. There was a fascinating curve to the captain’s mouth when he removed his cigar to speak that intrigued her. He had bushy eyebrows, a well-formed jaw, and long, dark hair that grazed his wide, brawny shoulders. His long leather coat stretched taut over thick, muscled arms. A black shirt was tucked into his buff-toned trousers, where she also noted the butt of two pistols were cocked at odd angles for easy access.

  One attribute stood out among the others, however, stealing Selina’s breath. Somehow he seemed to see into Selina’s soul, discovering more than she was willing to divulge. His dark, all-seeing eyes pierced the armor she used to shield her emotions as if it was made of glass.

  “Cuvier!” Robillard shouted. “Escort the capitaine to the bar.”

  “I know the way,” the captain argued.

  Cuvier strutted forward, his angry stare raking over Selina in a promise of retribution. “But the bounty—”

  “You’ll get your bounty,” the captain said, his voice gruff with bitter dislike for the man, “after I finish my business here.”

  Robillard ignored the captain’s insolence. He merely nodded and waved his hand like a king, giving the captain leeway.

  Selina fought to control the quiver snaking down her spine. Her rescuer wasn’t a knight in shining armor; he was just another pirate bartering goods. She had no choice but to go along with whatever this man said or did until she was out of the Wasp. If she didn’t leave with the captain, she’d be forced back into chains. She’d make her move once they left the tavern and were making their way to his ship. She couldn’t allow anyone to take her farther and farther away from the brother she loved. If she didn’t . . .

  Her knees began to shake. A tight knot within her belly begged for release, but she couldn’t fall apart now. She was stronger than this. She’d spent her entire life learning to combat her emotions. Failure was not an option.

  By all that was holy, she’d never imagined standing where she was now. Being held captive in Saint-Malo was not how she’d pictured her life would be the morning she and Lord Gariland were to be married. After they were wed, her betrothed had planned to build a magnificent stone manor that would be the envy of everyone from Redruth to Camborne in Cornwall. It was the first of many promises he’d made her father, Julius Herding, and the second of many steps he’d assured would elevate Papa’s social status among the ton.

  Lord Gariland had grand ideas. She wondered if he even suspected Papa’s duplicity or Papa’s reasons for approving the match solely based on the access Lord Gariland had provided them with due to his noble title. Garilands had lived in Devon for hundreds of years, serving the duchy in various capacities. A union between Selina and Lord Gariland assured her father a step up the social ladder, attaching a legitimate stamp to the Herding family’s improved financial status.

  Papa’s matchmaking scheme had not prospered, however, until he’d offered Lord Gariland a partnership in his successful mining corporation as an additional incentive. She’d hoped Papa had her best interests at heart, but now she wasn’t so sure. All her life she’d tried to be her mother’s opposite in every way in order to win Papa’s love. It had been a futile endeavor, one she’d clung to in order to make up for the fact that her mother had died giving birth to her and that, as Selina grew, she came to look exactly like her mother. Unfortunately, her resemblance only served to remind Papa that she’d been the cause of Mama’s death. Papa cared so little for her and resented her so much that he hadn’t hesitated to give her to Lord Gariland. It had broken Selina’s heart. Though Lord Gariland seemed amiable the few times they’d met, it had become clear that only an advantageous match would soften Papa’s resentment toward her, a matter that had completely shaken Owen’s confidence in Papa’s well-being.

  Someone gripped her by the upper arm, startling her from her musings.

  It was the captain of the Sea Wolf. “Stay close,” he said. Who was he, really? Not that it mattered. He was a mercenary pirate. Whatever else he might be, she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out. “I hope you’re worth it.”

  “I am,” she vowed.

  Lord Gariland had claimed she was worth the noose of marriage. Papa’s money was the reason, though. Why else would a viscount’s son want to marry a miner’s daughter? Money and everything it stood for was the culprit. And she could use it to her advantage. Between her betrothed and Papa, there was enough blunt to compensate the captain for his trouble, though she’d have to own up to it. If only the men who’d stolen her away from Cornwall had set her free when once their demands had been met. Instead, when they’d refused to return her home, she’d been slapped smartly and told they’d never had any intentions of letting her or her brother go. Why?

  “I will prove it to you, Capitaine,” she said. Then she gasped. Saints preserve her, the captain had implied that he preferred cabin boys. And she was pretending to be one!

  His gaze softened, giving her access to the man beneath—for a mere second, nothing more—before his eyes hardened once again. Could she hope this man would be different from Robillard’s?

  “I have business to take care of,” the captain said. “After that, I’ll take you to your new home.”

  “New home?”

  He looked at her as if she was daft. “The Sea Wolf.”

  Selina’s annoyance increased, and her heart sank into her belly. “The Sea Wolf?”

  “Aye,” he said. His narrowed stare questioned her parroting replies.

  But of course. Where did she expect a pirate would take her?

  The turn her life had taken was almost too much to bear. If she boarded another ship, she wanted a heading to Portreath, five miles north of her home in Redruth.

  In the meantime, what did a cabin boy do? She knew next to nothing about sailing a ship.

  Cuvier ambled forward, refreshing memories of that poor boy’s suffering. “Gutless swine!” she shouted. She moved quickly, reaching for one of the pistols in the Sea Wolf captain’s coat, intent on killing Cuvier. “If I were a man—”

  “Argh!” The captain of the Sea Wolf brushed her hand aside, growled loudly, and yanked her to his side before she could say anything more. “Shut it!” He glowered at her, eased her behind him, and then raised a finger to ward off Cuvier. “Keep your distance!”

  “Mon Dieu!” Selina covered her mouth, realizing that she’d essentially just given herself away. She glanced around, silently praying no one had caught it.

  Jolie stood behind Robillard, her hand on the man’s shoulder. She narrowe
d her gaze on Selina, and shook her head.

  “If ye keep taunting your betters, boy, you won’t make it to manhood,” Cuvier spat.

  “Sod off,” the captain said. When Cuvier backed away, the captain turned to her. “Don’t speak another word.”

  He grabbed Selina none too gently by the collar, forcing her to walk twice as fast to meet his stride and keep from falling to her knees. Tobacco wafted off him as smoke spiraled from his cigar. She staggered as he practically dragged her to the bar. When they reached the counter, he stood her beside it, removed the burning stub from his mouth, and pointed the blazing end at her. “Don’t move.”

  She froze. The disgusting, spicy scent of the cigar penetrated her nostrils, tickling her senses as a haze swirled about the captain’s head. He turned his back on her and searched the tavern, ignoring her.

  He broke away to speak to Jolie nearby. They appeared to know each other well, attesting that the captain had been at the Wasp before today.

  Selina glanced around the tavern, locking gazes with Cuvier. Good God, could her life get any worse? Not only was the man who’d bought her for fifty boxes of cigars a threat to her but he was a pirate, and Cuvier wanted to kill them both.

  In her one-and-twenty years of life, she’d spent much of her time in Owen’s shadow. As Papa’s heir, Owen had been given leave to study the protective arts, science, and literature. He’d been taught to ride, handle exported copper ore and tin shipped to South Wales, and operate the mines. As she’d grown, however—looking more and more like her mother and earning her father’s wrath—Owen’s anger toward her for stealing away his mother had changed. He’d included her in his training, helping her learn about the mining industry and anything she desired without Papa’s knowledge.

  Governesses had been hired to guide Selina in addlepated boredom. She’d run each of them off, preferring to spend her time with Owen. Her brother encouraged her to be strong like the bal maidens who worked at the mines, and he criticized Papa for punishing Selina simply because she resembled their mother.

  Papa had forbidden Owen’s interference, of course, but like Selina, her brother was a force to be reckoned with. He stood to inherit a lucrative position among the mineral lords of her father’s profitable corporation, Nancekuke. It was new money obtained from a mother lode of copper and tin at Wheals Creiddylad and Glory. The mines’ productivity, combined with Francis Basset’s barony, had proven to be a lucrative investment. It became more profitable than any other active lodes in the area, generating a substantial fortune that was enviable throughout Cornwall. Added to that success, her father and Lord Basset—who was known for his extravagant living—had wisely invested in Richard Trevithick’s new cylindrical boiler, which had doubled the mines’ profits and efficiency.

  Still, wealth had not brought Papa the social acceptance he desired. The difficulty stemmed from his lack of a title and Owen’s refusal to cow to their father’s will. As a consequence, Papa urged Owen, the inheritor of the Herding dynasty, to prostrate himself before Francis Basset, a man who’d earned his barony by leading a small army of Cornish miners to Plymouth to defend England’s shores. Such a concord ensured Owen an advantageous marriage.

  Selina’s situation was no less brutal. She’d smiled demurely and agreed to marry into a viscountcy to please the man who despised her very existence, a submission that went against every one of her beliefs and had caused Owen great distress. He hadn’t been pleased by Papa’s choice of husbands for her, though she hadn’t been given time to discover the source of his worry. He and Papa had argued one night over dinner, and Papa had forbidden Owen from interfering. Unfazed, Owen had jumped into her carriage as it left Trethewey House and tried to stop her from arriving at the chapel where Papa was waiting for her.

  “Lord Gariland is dangerous, Selina. I implore you not to go through with this,” Owen had said. But he hadn’t had time to divulge more. The carriage had rolled abruptly to a stop, and the door had been ripped open by—

  A chair sailed across the Wasp, hitting the wall as a man vaulted to his feet, shouting curses at his companions. “By cock, ye’re a cheat!”

  “Brave words,” the man across from him said, raising a pistol.

  A moment later, gunfire spliced the air. Blood drained from Selina’s face as the argumentative man fell to the floor, dead. Immediately concerned a riot would break out, Selina cut her gaze to the captain of the Sea Wolf and assessed the distance between them.

  She was surrounded by truly dangerous men, which made Owen’s accusations of Lord Gariland seem unfounded. Her intended had always been generous, offering her the attention she’d craved but never received from her father. Papa had been blinded by le bon ton and the possibility of acquiring a new wife from its fold. She supposed such a feat was impossible with an exact copy of his first wife living at Trethewey House.

  The silence purchased by gunfire evaporated as the crowded room burst to life once more, and the dead man was carried out the front entrance.

  “Come,” the captain ordered, disrupting her thoughts. He deposited her into a chair at a table where Jolie waited. “This is Jolie . . . a friend. She’ll get you something to eat and drink. Do not leave this table until I get back, understood?”

  Selina nodded. She knew exactly how dangerous her situation had become. Wary of Jolie, the woman who’d garnered Robillard’s interest, she gazed into the barmaid’s dark, sultry eyes and squirmed.

  “I was once like you,” Jolie admitted. “Alone, afraid, and far from home.” She reached across the table for Selina’s hand.

  Selina coiled her fingers into a fist and jerked her hand back to her lap.

  “You are safe now, ma chérie.”

  Safe? According to Owen, she wasn’t even safe with her own betrothed. Selina blinked and then swallowed hard, realizing the significance of Jolie’s words. She’d used the feminine form of sweetheart. Good heavens, who else had picked up her slip of the tongue?

  She gazed frantically about the tavern.

  “Do not fear for your life,” Jolie said. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Secret?” If Jolie knew she was a woman in disguise, why hadn’t she come to her aid earlier? “You do not know me. Why do you offer to help me now?”

  “These men . . .” Jolie waved her hand about the room. “They see nothing but profit.” She pointed to her eyes. “Few dare to see the soul.” She stretched her arm across the table. “The capitaine of the Sea Wolf will protect you. Believe me when I say he is the only one who can do that now. I implore you to trust him.”

  “Trust a man who bought me?” That was too much to ask. “You must be mad.” She paused, studying Jolie. “I don’t even know if I can trust you.”

  “Eh.” Jolie shrugged dismissively. “My story is not for you. Life is cruel, and these streets are full of men who cannot forget.” She puckered her lips with annoyance and slanted a glance at the captain, who was seated four tables away with a man just as burly as he was. “War does that to a person, though the capitaine longs to remember.”

  “Remember what?” Selina asked, cutting her gaze to the captain, to this Wolf.

  “What he cannot,” Jolie responded, rising to her feet.

  This time, Selina shot her arm out and grabbed Jolie’s hand. She squared her shoulders as voices of the men who’d abused her heightened to a feverish pitch. “Don’t leave me,” she said, unwilling to release her.

  “Do not worry. Wolves are reliable creatures.”

  “I don’t understand . . .” She shook her head. “What is it you want me to know?”

  “Wolves always return to their dens.”

  Chapter Three

  Joanna delivered a tankard of beer to Wolf’s table, then sat down, positioning herself on his lap. She shoved her fingers through his hair and nodded to the man seated across from him. Her traveling companion, one of the five messengers Wellington employed—code-named Green—rose and moved soundlessly away.

  “I’m glad y
our injuries at Salamanca were not life-threatening,” she said.

  He flexed his left shoulder where a bullet had grazed him. “You know I cannot be killed.”

  “So you say.” She plucked his cigar out of his mouth and dropped it into his beer.

  “I was going to drink that,” he groused.

  “You’ve been activated again. The girl will slow you down.”

  Wolf ignored Joanna and slanted his gaze across the crowded room. “Has word of Marmont’s defeat reached you?”

  “Yes.” She leaned forward and placed her cheek against his to whisper in his ear. “Congratulations for a job well done.”

  He nodded. “We intercepted Marmont’s plans but lost Colquhoun.”

  “Is he dead?” she asked, nuzzling his neck. He suspected she was trying to hide her despair.

  “No.” It would take more than Frenchies to kill Colquhoun Grant. The man wasn’t one of Wellington’s best spies without reason. He had a knack for moving freely about Paris without raising suspicion. Spanish priests and peasants alike held him in high regard. Colquhoun was legendary and thrived on danger. “Captured.”

  “Will he talk?”

  The question was ludicrous. “Colquhoun would never betray us.”

  “What about Andrew and Cocks?” She tensed and pulled away to look at him. “They are never far from Wellington’s side.”

  “Most likely defending Burgos by now,” he said, running his hand over her cheek, keeping up their byplay. “The plan was to lay siege to the capital with thirty-five thousand men, Andrew and Cocks among them.”

  “Good.” Joanna nodded. “This news reassures me that Napoleon’s power is waning. I have news, as well,” she said. “Our lord is now a marquess.”

  This he hadn’t heard, but the revelation was not surprising. Accolades were sure to pour in. Wellington’s prowess on the field at Salamanca had assured them the strategic victory they’d sought, solidifying the general’s success.

  Wolf leaned back his head, offering her more of his neck as her sensual pretense continued. “King Joseph evacuated Madrid. Our engineers are building trenches around the Old Castile in Burgos. I hasten to add, the fight will be hard won. The weather isn’t cooperating, and Joseph left a garrison to defend the castile.”