The Pirate Ruse Read Online Free

tears from her face as she glanced about the cabin in which she was prisoner. She frowned, bewildered by the finery meeting her gaze. The desk and its chair, the blue velvet-cushioned chaise lounge to one side, a painting on the wall, the bedding of the captain’s berth—all were wildly luxurious and of great worth. Yet Cristabel was only momentarily dazzled, for she was indeed in a pirate captain’s cabin, and no pirate captain would linger in his cabin without knowing weapons of defense were within his reach. Though pirate crews that were captained by a man they respected were loyal to their leader, pirates were still pirates, and no captain of such a vessel as the Merry Wench could trust his men entirely. Thus, there must be weaponry at hand.
    Hope began to swell in Cristabel’s bosom. Perhaps she could find a pistol, a dagger, something with which to aid in escape—or at least something with which to defend her virtue. She tried to stand, but her legs were still too weak from the exertion of swimming. Still, she was not thwarted and began crawling toward the desk at the far side of the room. She would not forfeit her virtue or her life without a struggle. When the pirate captain, Navarrone the Blue Blade, came for her, she would defend herself—to the death if necessary. She would plunge his own cutlass into his belly, drive his own dagger into his heart, shoot him between the eyes with his own pistol before she allowed him to touch her.
    Reaching up, she took hold of the desktop, at last pulling herself to her feet. She smiled as she saw a dagger enclosed in a bejeweled sheath lying on top of the desk. Smiling, she picked up the weapon—drew the sharp blade from its ruby-encrusted scabbard.
    Remembering the words Captain Navarrone had uttered a moment before he had hurled them both from the Screaming Witch and into the sea, she whispered, “Oh, but you’ll thank me one day, love,” as she studied the lethal weapon in her hand. “Will I thank you one day, Captain Navarrone?” she questioned the air. She smiled and whispered, “I may indeed, love. I may indeed.”
     
Chapter Two
     
    Navarrone stood before the Chichester ’s few surviving crew members. Bully Booth and his men had well slaughtered the British sailors. Only seven remained. He was angry—angry that Bully Booth had come upon the Chichester before the Merry Wench had found her—angry that his boots were sopping wet for the sake of the swim necessary to save the woman now locked in his cabin—angry at the British sailors for being part of the Empire’s tyranny. Independence from the British Empire had been hard fought for by the United States. Many men died for the sake of it, and now the British were attempting to conquer, or in the least oppress, the fledgling country. For over two years, since June of 1812, battle had been waged between the states and territories of the United States and the bloody British Empire. Navarrone was weary of it.
    Navarrone studied the uniforms of the remaining British crew , their bloodied lips and defiant stances.
    “You men,” he began, addressing the enemy, “you are fortunate to be alive. The pirate Bully Booth did not intend to spare you. Yet I have.” He glared at the men, pacing back and forth before the line of young British sailors. His eyes narrowed as he closely studied the uniform of one man. “You,” he said, glaring at the man, “you’re first mate. Where’s your captain?”
    “Dead, you filthy pirate!” the man growled. Navarrone raised a hand, intent on striking the man for his disrespect and British alliance. He paused, however, for it took courage to stand in defiance of an enemy to which one was forfeit.
    “The woman that was aboard your vessel,” Navarrone began, lowering his hand, “the one Bully Booth captured. Was she your captain’s wife?” His instincts whispered that he should not allow the Brits to know he had taken the woman from Bully Booth. Furthermore, he was pleased