For the Love of a Pirate Read Online Free

someone up to get the sea view room ready for him. We’ll have dinner together once we get you warm and dry. C’mon,” he said to Constantine. “A swallow of brandy will take the chill off. It’s going to rain, y’know.”
    â€œI do,” Constantine said, and repressed a shudder, because the dampness seemed to have gotten under his skin.
    He stepped into the house and looked around. If he hadn’t known the crusty old captain lived there, he’d not have believed it. It was a manor house equal to any he’d ever seen. The hall was high and wide, and the tiles on the floor were marble, and gleamed. There was a staircase beyond; it twinned in the middle and went up both left and right from there, leading to a gallery on the second floor. The furniture he saw was of old carved wood, heavy and luxurious. He could smell fresh burning fire-wood and a delicious dinner on the air. And that air was wonderfully warm. There were no painted ceilings or frescoes on the walls, but otherwise it was a house that spoke of comfort and riches.
    He followed his host, both relieved and cautious.
    The room the captain led him to surprised Constantine. Not the array of oddments that the captain obviously had collected in his travels, but the fine leather-bound books. Constantine walked in behind his host, who headed straight for the bookcase on the far wall. This gave his visitor a chance to inspect the room. He smiled with pleasure when he noticed a lively fire roaring in the hearth, and lamps everywhere lit and glowing. The curtains were drawn against the night. The room was both sumptuous and cozy, far more pleasant a place than he’d have expected from the brash old sea captain’s appearance. And then, as he strolled over to the fire to warm his hands, he noticed that a little old woman was sleeping in a deep leather chair at the fireside.
    â€œPerhaps we ought to go somewhere else,” Constantine whispered.
    The captain turned his head. “Oh, it’s Lovey, is it? Never mind. If she’s had her tot, a cannon won’t wake her; if she hasn’t, she’ll be lively company. My daughter’s governess,” he added. “Or used to be. Now she just lives here. Everyone does,” he mumbled absently. “Better if she does wake up. Be blamed if I can remember the book I’m looking for. Wouldn’t be here a’tall if I hadn’t sent old Taunton scrambling to see to your arrival, and if I wasn’t looking for something good and old, better than I usually partake of. Well, special company and all. Ho, Lovey!” he bellowed so suddenly that Constantine’s shoulders jerked. “Give us a hand here, will you?”
    The old woman’s eyes fluttered open. She glanced up, looking unfocused, Constantine thought.
    â€œWhere’s the good book, eh?” the captain demanded.
    The old woman sat up, blinked, and then frankly goggled at Constantine. “But where are your manners, Captain?” she asked in a strangely youthful, teasing voice. “Who’s the handsome lad?”
    â€œHe’s here for Lisabeth,” the captain said. “Lord Wylde. You remember, and if you don’t, no matter. Where’s the damned good book?”
    â€œAren’t you going to introduce me?” the old lady asked, looking very much offended.
    â€œAye, here’s Lovey, Miss Esther Lovelace, my lord,” the captain said. “Lovey, here’s Lisabeth’s intended.”
    Constantine frowned.
    â€œNow, must I ask you again, woman?” the captain bellowed. “What’s the book?”
    â€œIt is the volume of Plutarch’s Lives,” Lovey said with enormous dignity. “The very rock upon which William Shakespeare built his immortal plays. Do you attend plays, Lord Wylde?”
    â€œWhat? Who? I?” Constantine said, confused by her sudden change of demeanor, from icily formal to downright kittenish when she