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Chapter 1
The next time I decide to kill a man, Jacquelyn thought, I
really need to find better help.
She
struggled toward consciousness, but pain blocked her way. Jacquelyn
sank back with dreamlike slowness, as though it wasn’t her body
lying beside the dusty Cornish road. She lightly skimmed the surface
of blackness, ready to plunge downward again, when the voices above
her began to make sense.
“No more
than a whelp,” a deep baritone said with disgust.
“Dead?”
another voice asked, the tone reedy and unabashedly cheerful.
Work-roughened fingers searched for the pulse point below her jaw
line. “Not yet.”
Jacquelyn
hardly dared breathe.
“No blood so
far as I can tell, but he took a wallop. Look at that goose egg.
Still, we may get some answers from him.” A booted foot nudged her
hip. “Wake up, lad.”
Lad.
At least her disguise still held. Her eyes rolled in their sockets
before she forced her lids open. A stab of sunlight made her squeeze
them closed again. Her head pounded in tandem with her heart.
“Rum, Meri,”
the deep voice ordered, punctuated by a commanding snap of his
fingers.
“There’s no
call to waste good rum on—”
“Whose rum
is it, Mr. Meriwether?”
Jacquelyn
peered from beneath her brown lashes. Grumbling under his breath,
the one called Meri fished a silver flask from the gelding’s
saddlebag and handed it over. The other one, the one whose strong
arms forced her to sit up, the one she loathed with every fiber of
her being, held the drink to her lips.
“Steady now.
Not too fast,” he urged. “This rum’s raw enough to put hair on your
chest.”
The spirits
burned down her gullet. When she choked and sputtered, he pulled the
flask away. She didn’t dare look up at him.
He was
coming to destroy her life and the lives of all she held dear. She
didn’t want to see his face up so close.
Not until
she had a sword in her hand.
“Well,
lookee there, Cap’n. He’s still in the land of the living, after
all. Must have just had the breath knocked from him, I warrant.
Good. I like me boys’ livers fresh.” Meriwether flashed a wolfish
grin. “Pity we’ve no onions to fry up with it.”
She’d been
warned the new lord and his minions were heartless and utterly
without conscience. She felt the blood draining from her face,
blanching white as a fish belly.
Damn her
weakness! Why hadn’t she been born a man?
“You aren’t
really going to eat my liver.” She tried to sound sure about it, but
her voice broke with a squeak.
“I won’t,”
the captain promised. “But Mr. Meriwether spent longer in the
Caribbee than I. He has peculiar tastes. If you tell me what I want
to know, I’ll make certain your liver stays where it is. Now what’s
your name?”
She needed
time to gather her wits. Keeping her eyes downcast, she wobbled to
her feet. A sword lay a bare five feet away, the hilt facing toward
her.
“J-Jack,”
she stammered as she edged toward the weapon. “I’m called Jack.”
“Very well,
Jack,” he said. “You were with that lot that tried to waylay us, but
perhaps you can make amends.”
With them? She’d tried to
lead them, but her last fuzzy memory was
one of the oafs clobbering her senseless with his sharp elbow as he
drew his sword. The wretches had professed to be experienced
assassins, and the royal seal they flashed about gave their claims
the ring of truth. The ruffians must have grown wings after their
initial assault failed. There was no sign of them now.
“I’m willing
to believe you fell in with bad company sort of accidental-like,”
the captain went on.
“Aye, tis
easy enough to fall in with villains, bad company being so much more
pleasurable than good company as a general rule,” Meriwether chimed
in. “And who should know better’n you, Cap’n?”
“In any
case, I’ve done you a good turn for an evil one,” he said. “Will you
help me then, Jack?”
She crossed
her arms over her chest, pulling the ill-fitting smock-shirt tight
around her form, trying to seem as if she were weighing her options.
She glanced at Meri, who was now picking rocks from his horse’s
hooves, totally disinterested in her since it appeared his captain
wasn’t going to let him cook her liver.
This might
be her only chance.
“Aye, I’ll
help you.” She dove for the sword and by some miracle came up with
the hilt in her hand. “I’ll help you on your way to Hell.”
Remembering her training with Dragon Caern’s master-at-arms, she
brought the blade up in a glittering arc, trusting to surprise for
success.
She only
managed to graze his chin and knock off his hat.
Quick as an
adder, his sword was out and facing her down. He was much bigger
than she expected. He stood a hand’s width more than six feet and
carried fifteen stone in weight. Most of it looked to be in
work-hardened muscle.
Jacquelyn
swallowed hard. The folk of Dragon Caern depended on her to make
good decisions. Clearly, this was not one of her finest.
She’d
imagined the new lord would be whey-faced, powdered and perfumed,
slightly effeminate in the manner of most courtly folk. But this
man’s face was bronzed the color of oiled cedar and there was
nothing the least soft about him. Something inside her rebelled at
the injustice. He had no right to such a strong-boned handsome face.
Not with as black a heart as he must possess. She felt a surge of
triumph when a trio of red beads appeared on his smooth-shaven chin.
He wiped them off and gave her a mocking bow.
“First blood
to you then, Jack.”
Meri
chuckled. “And I was a-feared life as a landsman would be dull.”
Circling,
the captain retrieved his fallen hat. The tip of his sword never
dipped as he slapped the tricorn against his thigh, sending small
clouds of dust puffing. The cockade and plume were decidedly worse
for the wear, but he cocked the hat on his head at a rakish angle.
“You don’t
want to do this, boy,” he warned.
The fine
brocade frock coat and velvet breeches bespoke him a gentleman, but
his dark eyes glinted beneath his darker brows, feral and cold as a
dragon.
A dragon
that would devour her world, the note with the royal seal had
promised. She clenched her teeth and gripped the hilt of her sword
all the tighter. “Oh, yes, I do.”
“Me thanks
to ye, Jackie-boy. Cap’n Gabriel swore anyone who wished him bodily
harm was still sailing the Spanish Main.” Meri settled on a rock to
watch the combatants in comfort. “I recollect he wagered twenty
sovereigns on the matter.”
A wry grin
lifted one corner of Gabriel’s mouth.
“Apparently
I lose.” The smile faded. “But I warn you, Jack. I don’t make a
habit of it.”
“Don’t
worry,” Jacquelyn said with more bravado than she felt. “I don’t
intend for you to live long enough to get used to losing.”
She lunged
at him, swinging her blade with all the spite she possessed.
* * *
Gabriel
parried the stroke with economy of movement. “Bad form. Is it a
lesson you’re wanting then?
“No, ’tis
your head I’m after.”
“Don’t think
I can accommodate you. I’m rather attached to my head.” Despite the
dirty face, there was no disguising the delicacy of Jack’s features.
Gabriel narrowed his eyes in speculation. Jack was definitely
female.
A wickedly
angry female.
She
recovered from her initial blunder and launched a fresh assault that
showed some skill with a blade.
“Better,” he
said as they danced with steel. He followed the praise with a
rumbling chuckle. “Keep your knees bent.”
“Keep your
teeth together,” Jack said hotly, cheeks flaming.
The livid
blush made her pink mouth all the riper for the taking. Even with
her spitfire temper, he wanted a taste of her.
A unique
combination of strokes forced Gabriel to jerk his attention back to
her blade. Her lips might look sweet as honey, but her sword arm
carried a sting. Did she think hiding her sex under boy’s rags would
make it easier for her to attack him? Gabe would play along for the
time being. Uncovering the truth of the matter might prove amusing.
“You take
too many chances, Jack.” He side-stepped her rushing blow and
whacked her on the backside with the flat of his blade. Not hard
enough to truly hurt her, but he knew a rap like that smarted like
the dickens.
She yelped
and rubbed her bottom with her free hand.
“I warned
you.” One corner of his mouth hitched up. “Perhaps when we’re done
here, I’ll take you over my knee and warm your arse properly.”
After all,
she was attempting to kill him. The least she might expect was a
paddling. He’d even try not to enjoy it too much.
“You truly
are evil,” she said in disgust.
“Did you
hear that, Meri? Evil, Jack calls me.”
“Evil, is
it?” Meriwether’s scrub-brush eyebrows rose. “Aye, well, he don’t
know ye like I do, else he’d not be so charitable.”
Gabriel
turned back to parry Jack’s latest thrust. “I don’t like being
called evil when I’ve done nothing to warrant it. Not lately, at any
rate.”
“I’ve no
care for your likes or dislikes.” Her chin jutted upward in defiance
as she raised her sword again. “All I wish is for you to die.”
“You’ll
forgive me if I don’t quake in my boots.” Gabriel cocked his head
and gave her a grudging nod. Perhaps he needed to change tactics if
he hoped to expose her true colors.
“You know,
Jack, you took a nasty blow. Might have cracked a rib or two in your
fall.” He bared his teeth in a wicked smile. “Best shuck out of your
shirt so we can have a look-see.”
Her eyes
flared and she backed a step or two. “My ribs are fine.”
“Don’t be so
sure. You were knocked senseless. A cracked rib might puncture one
of your lungs. Nasty thing that. Have you bubbling blood in no time.
Now, I ask you, would an evil man be so concerned for the well-being
of one who tried to waylay him? Let me help you there.”
Gabriel
flashed his blade and, quick as thought, flicked the top button from
Jack’s shirt.
She squealed
and clutched the shirt closed, but not before Gabriel was rewarded
with a glimpse of the sweet meeting place between two tightly bound
breasts.
There be
a hidden treasure well worth finding. He smiled in satisfaction
at having correctly divined one of Jack’s secrets. Two actually,
he thought as his smile deepened.
“Aw, Cap’n.
Ye shouldn’t frighten the lad so,” Meri chided as he inspected the
gelding’s tack and cinched the girth tighter. “Sours the liver, it
does. Makes ‘em hardly worth frying.”
“Steady on,
Meriwether.” Gabriel circled the girl slowly. She turned with him,
her eyes spitting cold venom. “I think I’ve discovered a better way
to loosen Jack’s tongue than your threat to fry his liver for
breakfast. Come now. Off with the shirt.”
She shook
her head with vehemence. “You’re not just evil. You’re a beast!”
“Freely
admitted with pride.” He lifted his tricorn and made a courtly leg
to her. “You may dress him in lace and gold trim if you like, but
dandy or not, there’s a beast in every man.”
“Don’t tar
others with your sins.”
“No need,
since I’m sure they have plenty of their own.” With a deft movement,
he caught her blade in his and whipped it out of her grasp. The
sword turned end over end, but he caught the hilt cleanly. “But all
men are part beast, the part that craves what it does not have and
stops at nothing to possess. Now, Jack, if you value your skin,
you’ll stand still.”
Gabriel
stepped behind her and slashed the back of her long shirt in a deep
upside-down vee, exposing the backside of her skin-hugging leggings
and the muslin winding cloth she’d used to bind her breasts. She
gasped but couldn’t stop him from looking his fill.
“I must say,
you’re a forward-looking lad. Seems he’s already bound his ribs,
Meri.”
Gabriel’s
gaze traveled lower.
No boy ever
had such a bottom, the round mounds shaped like an inverted heart.
It was as snug a cove as a man could hope for.
The beast in
Gabriel roared for a moment, tempting him with a vision of Jack bent
over the nearest boulder, leggings twisted at her ankles. His mouth
went dry and his breeches were suddenly uncomfortably tight. He’d
been without a woman far too long, but he bridled himself.
Once, in
another life it sometimes seemed, he’d been the son of a gentleman.
Perhaps he
might be again.
“At least,
an honest man will own up to his beast,” he said between clenched
teeth, as he tamped down the desire she stirred.
“An honest
beast,” she all but snarled at him over her shoulder. “So you make a
virtue of admitting your faults.”
“A man like
me must take virtue where he may.” He came full circle and
deliberately strafed her form with a hot, knowing look.
Gabriel had
never taken a woman by force in his life and wasn’t about to start
now, but Jack didn’t know that. Let her think what she might. He
needed answers.
“You’ll
pardon me for saying so, but you’re not much of a fighting man,
Jack. Why did the men who attacked me need you?”
Her lips
clamped together.
He raised
his blade. “You have more buttons.”
“We were warned that a
new lord was coming to take possession of Dragon Caern. One who’d
bought and paid for the title and intended to turn out all the souls
who shelter there now.” She glared at him.
“And? What
was your role in plotting my untimely demise?” His sword point
teased another button.
“I was to
lead a party of fighting men to a likely spot to catch you before
you reached the castle,” she admitted.
“A totally
unnecessary plan as I have no intention of taking possession of
anything,” Gabriel said. “Besides, I suspect my father would have a
thing or two to say about being turned out. Rhys Drake may be
getting on in years, but that old dragon won’t leave the Caern till
they carry him out feet first.”
Jack’s brows
lowered, and she studied Gabriel through narrowed eyes. “Old Lord
Drake is dead, God rest him.”
She wielded
no sword, but she couldn’t have delivered a more ringing blow. A
stone lodged in Gabriel’s chest. He sank onto the nearest rock as he
tried to wrap his mind around the thought of a world where his
indomitable father was no more.
“Unless
you’re bastard born,” Jack said, quick to follow up her verbal
wallop with another telling strike, “Lord Drake couldn’t have been
your sire. The old lord only had two sons and they’re both gone to
God, too. The elder by a fever and the younger by the sea.”
His brother
dead, too. This was an ill-starred day all around. Gabriel dragged a
hand over his face and looked up to find Jack staring at him
quizzically.
“You can’t
be him.” She swiped her nose on her shirtsleeve. A nice boyish
touch, but it came far too late to fool him. “The youngest son’s
ship went down with all hands.”
“Aye, well,
there’s down and there’s down,” Meriwether explained. “When we poor
mariners what sank the HMS Defiant found out Gabriel
was a navigator trained, we sort of commandeered him as it were.”
“Mariners?”
Jack’s gaze swept the old rascal. “You mean pirates!” She
turned back to glare at Gabriel. “And you went with them willingly?”
Gabriel
snorted at her outrage. Had he ever been that cocksure about
anything?
“They fished
me out of the burning wreckage and offered me a choice. Turn to
piracy or claim a watery grave then and there.” Gabriel knew his
father wouldn’t have approved, even to save his skin. Not that Rhys
Drake had ever approved of anything Gabriel did. He crossed his arms
over his chest. “It was a compelling argument for a change of career
at the time.”
“And a
brilliant career he made of it, let me tell ye—”
“That’s
enough, Meri.”
“Aye,
Cap’n,” Meriwether said with a grimace. He lowered his voice
conspiratorially. “But one who can claim to be the Dragon of the
Caribbee—”
“That’ll do,
Mr. Meriwether.”
A flash of
recognition crossed Jack’s face. “I’ve heard of you. The Cornish
Dragon, terror of—”
“Just
Gabriel Drake, if you please.” He rose and sketched a mocking bow.
“Your servant.”
“Gabriel
Drake,” she repeated, her ears and cheeks going scarlet as she
realized her error. He was no usurper. Gabe had every right to be
here. Jack dipped in a quick curtsey, then remembered herself and
returned his bow. She was doggedly determined to keep up her male
disguise. “My Lord Drake.” Then her eyes turned wary. “If that’s who
you are in truth.”
Gabriel was
suddenly weary of the game.
“I’ve no
need to prove it to you. Let’s away to the castle,” he said as he
lifted her up onto the gelding. The lass gave a startled squeak when
Gabriel pinched her bottom. He swung himself up behind her with a
satisfied nod. Jack tried to wiggle down, but he pulled her tight to
his chest. “You can go upright or you can go flopped over the saddle
with your bottom bouncing to the sky. In fact, now that I think on
it, I believe I’d prefer you like that. But either way, but you’re
going with me.”
She went
still as a hare in a thicket.
“That’s
better.” He nudged the gelding into a sedate walk. “To start, you
might tell me what a young lady is doing traipsing about the
countryside dressed as a lad.”
“My lord,
I’m not—”
“Spare me
your denials, or I’ll just have to finish unbuttoning that shirt to
make doubly certain,” Gabriel threatened. “I may have been at sea a
long time, but I still know the feel of woman’s rump. Now talk.”
He flicked
open the top remaining button on Jack’s shirt and moved down to the
next one. Her bared skin was satin to his touch. A bit of meddling
with this cheeky wench was just what he needed to ease the fresh
ache in his heart. He suspected the best way to irritate Jack was to
make sure she enjoyed it as well.
Since
irritating her was the best idea he’d had all morning, he’d make
certain of it.
He dipped
his head to take her earlobe in his mouth and was rewarded by her
sharp intake of breath. He bit down just enough to make her shiver
and then released her.
His voice rumbled by her wet ear. “Who are you in truth?”
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