The Pirate Ruse Read Online Free Page B

deftly crossing the plank toward him.
    Lowering his voice , Fergus whispered, “There’s a trunk of women’s necessities in the Chichester ’s cap’n’s cabin.” Fergus—the Merry Wench ’s first mate—was a man to be trusted. Navarrone ever admired his quick wit and ability to solve riddles. “Might it belong to the lady?”
    “Most likely, Fergus,” Navarrone mumbled.
    “Should we bring it aboard the Wench , Cap’n?” Fergus inquired. “Allow the lady some dry clothes?”
    Navarrone’s eyes narrowed . “Bring the trunk aboard…but do not take it to the woman,” he answered. “No one is to touch its contents until I have seen to them first.”
    “Aye, Cap’n,” Fergus said.
    “In fact…have it brought to me at once,” Navarrone said. “There is something strange in all this. It unsettles me somehow. Best we root out whatever knowledge we can before we reach New Orleans.”
    “Aye, Cap’n.”
    Perhaps the contents of the woman’s trunk would reveal her purpose aboard the enemy’s vessel—or in least her identity. Navarrone’s eyes narrowed. Yes, something was greatly amiss where the Chichester and its woman passenger were concerned.
    *
    Cristabel glanced about the cabin. She held the dagger at her back, yet she wished for some alternate weapon to aid her. She saw none easily accessible, however, and knew the captain of the Merry Wench would return soon. She must prepare, convince herself that death may be at her door yet likewise persuade herself that she could survive—even triumph. Her eyes fell to the captain’s berth, strewn with linens and clothing. She considered snatching up one of the shirts she saw abandoned there in order to rid herself of the weight of the sopping brocaded vest. She knew the vest would inhibit her movements, yet she feared there was not time for such considerations.
    Cristabel glanced up then. She was instantly intrigued by the large painting on the wall near the cabin door—a portrait of a beautiful raven-haired woman. The eyes of the woman in the portrait were as blue as the sky, her lips as crimson as summer cherries. She wore a dress of peacock blue and an expression of contentment. She was, by far, one of the most beautiful women Cristabel had ever seen. She fleetingly wondered if the portrait had been painted from the artist’s imagination or from the sitting of a living woman. The woman bore a small, straight nose, high, well-defined cheekbones, and a dark beauty mark at the crest of her right cheek beneath the corner of her eye.
    Glancing back to the captain’s desk, Cristabel realized that the portrait was placed so that any moment the capt ain was at his desk or in his berth—or even perhaps reclining on the nearby chaise—the view before him would ever be the portrait of the striking woman.
    “A lover?” Cristabel inquired of the air. “Only such a rare beauty could be your equal, I suppose,” she whispered. For it was true: bloodthirsty pirate or not, Captain Navarrone was fully as handsome as the tales told of him claimed. Yet the devil often masked evil with beauty, and though Cristabel Albay had never seen a more handsome and alluring man, she was not so easily swayed to think good of him as some women had been. The stories of the pirate Navarrone’s conquests of women were many—and wildly scandalous! In Charleston it was rumored he had seduced the governor’s wife. Fair half the pirate wenches in New Orleans claimed to have fallen prey to his charms. It seemed the entire coast of the Gulf told tales of Captain Navarrone the Blue Blade and his carnal escapades.
    Cristabel wrinkled her nose , disgusted with the notion of pirates and their riotous, wanton ways. She swallowed a lump of fear that rose in her throat, for only in that moment did the true desperation of her circumstances seep into her thoughts. When she had been bound, gagged, and taken—hauled aboard a British ship with no knowledge of the reason, knowing she was the only