Angel's Master

Chapter One


Three days before Christmas, 1822--Florida Keys


With a swipe of a soft cloth along the dark, well-oiled wood of the counter, Jacqueline Massey gave the occupants of the bar another glance. The usual men congregated around scarred and pitted tables as they played cards or drank away their sorrows in mugs of ale or bottles of rum. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and wondered if anything would ever change in the God-forsaken coastal village. The locals called it Nube Voladora, or Flying Cloud, because of the mists that obscured it in the evenings.

“What’s the news of the evening, Miss Massey?” The owner of the deep voice slipped up to her counter and sat on a stool.

“Alexander.” Jacqueline frowned. She wished he would leave her to work alone. “Why are you here?” With an eyebrow cocked, she studied the man her father wanted her to marry.

Tall, nearly six feet, and broad shouldered, Captain Alexander Caruthers had toiled his whole adult life in the Navy and carried himself as straight as one of the masts on his ship. He possessed eyes the color of an angry blue-gray sea, and wore his blond hair cut in short waves that clung to a high collar. His chin jutted out in an imposing way, but his manners were impeccable, and he’d never been less than pleasant and solicitous in her company.

Jacqueline couldn’t envision being tied to such a dull, conservative man, regardless of his looks. But he demanded an answer as his eyes bored into hers. “Nothing new to report. It’s been quiet all evening. The same as it has been for the last week.”

“Hopefully, it will stay that way.”

“Perhaps the pirates have been warned of your identity or my deception.”

“Perhaps, but it does not matter.” He accepted a pint of ale, then took a deep draw of the amber-colored brew before continuing. “The newly formed Mosquito Fleet will be down here by April at the latest. We will run the pirates out of these waters and exterminate them for the vermin they are.”

“Maybe they feel making a living terrorizing the seas is a job.” She understood the American public’s outrage at the piratical activity on the high seas, but the deep-down curious part of her sympathized with their plight. Once David Porter and his fleet of ships arrived in the islands, the age of pirates would be over. A page of history signed off or forgotten. Jacqueline sighed. It would have been exciting to meet a real buccaneer, to see what made him tick. “Besides, the merchant vessels flaunt their wealth through the seas like a red flag. I sometimes think they wish to be robbed.”

“And you can be tried for treason against the government for talk like that.” Alexander frowned. “Remember your job, and leave your imagination for other pursuits.”

If only he knew where my imagination takes me. “Of course. Duty before pleasure, is that not correct?” Old resentment flared within her chest at being used as a listening device in her father’s game of naval espionage. She had protested, but in the end, her Father’s opinion prevailed with promises of a return to New York. “You are no better than Father.” She glared and planted her hands on her hips. “If the Navy wants the names of pirates so badly, why do you send a woman to do the work?” Even though he was dressed as every other man in the bar and not in his military uniform, his imperious bearing compelled her respect.

He smiled--a rare occurrence. “Because men trust you. You have enough curves to tempt them to your counter and natural compassion to keep them there.” Alexander shifted in his seat. “Just do this now. Christmas is in a few days. All the parties should keep you occupied and in better spirits.” His voice dropped to a cozy whisper. “I have a feeling one of my gifts will change your life.”

Instead of the spark of excitement Jacqueline expected from an imminent marriage proposal, only cold fingers of dread kept her heart company. She longed for adventure, for thrills. The last thing she wanted was a house full of screaming, snotty children and a rule-loving husband who would be away more than he was home.

“Well, I’ll just have to wait to be surprised.” She threw the soiled rag under the counter, opened her mouth to say more, but a stranger in the doorway arrested her attention. “I haven’t seen him around before.”

“Watch yourself, Jacqueline. He could be dangerous. I’ll be in the corner if you should have need of me.” Alexander slid from his stool to take possession of a chair shrouded in dark shadows.

The only answer she gave him was a huff of exasperation. By day, the world expected her to conform to their rigid standards and proper rules of etiquette. By night, she deceived thirsty men who were down on their luck and turned them over to the authorities when the occasion permitted. Sometimes in the quiet hours of early morning, she gave into the self-loathing her dangerous game created. Never did she let the men do anything more than chastely embrace her, and knew her Kiss of Death, in which she dropped a kiss on their foreheads, would be just that for the pirates. Her gut twisted with guilt.

And all because her father wanted to rid the area of what he called sea rats.

She hated her life, and yearned to be so much more--to someone else as well as to herself. She wanted to be something more valuable than bait or an object to be admired.

Shoving her gloomy thoughts to the back of her mind, Jacqueline rounded the counter to cross the worn, wooden floor. She didn’t acknowledge Alexander as she passed. As she reached the table where the visitor settled, Jacqueline pasted a false smile on her lips. “Good evening, stranger. Can I bring you a meal and maybe some rum to wash it down?” Her heartbeat accelerated as she waited for him to speak.

“God, no rum. I am sick of the stuff.” A tanned hand lifted a ratty tri-corn hat from a shaggy mop of black hair. He laid the hat on the table, lifted eyes so dark and hard they could pass as onyx. “I’d like a cup of tea, if it’s not too much trouble.” A slow grin tilted the corners of his sensual lips upward but didn’t reveal his teeth. “And I would not say no to a nice ham steak with some potatoes maybe, and local fruit. It has been a long time since I’ve tasted pork or anything fresh, for that matter.” The sound of his voice and choice of words revealed his probable occupation.

Pirate.

“It will be a few minutes.” She openly studied him. His tanned skin, easy charm, and the comment about fresh food denoted him as a pirate as if he’d waved his hands and shouted it from the rooftop, but the absence of a beard or any other form of stubble on his smooth chin had her wondering. He did not look like an ordinary seaman. “Will there be anything else?” Her gaze fell on the large, square ruby that winked under the candlelight on his left pinky finger.

Definitely a pirate with riches to flaunt.

“Not unless you’d like to keep a lonely man company in this season of miracles.” His baritone voice wrapped languidly around her and brushed along her skin in a light caress. “Being far from home at this time of year is always a trial.”

“I can sympathize.” Jacqueline sighed as she remembered her previous life in the glamorous, glittering society of New York City. “Let me convey your order to the cook and bring your tea. I can spare you a few minutes then.” She turned away when a flush warmed her cheeks. For one insane moment she was glad for the revealing bodice of her unadorned brown wool dress. Plainer than her usual gowns, it was necessary for working the bar, and showed her figure in the best light--prime garb for attracting criminals. Just as quickly, she banished the thought. Nothing would come of a chance meeting with the pirate. He’d eat his dinner and either return to wherever he came, or Alexander would lead him away in chains.

She shuddered as an image of the handsome man hanging from the gallows swam into her mind’s eye. Jacqueline hoped he was too clever to be caught, and that Alexander was too slow for pursuit.

A dirty man from another table taunted her as she walked by. “Hey, lovey, how’s about sittin’ on me lap for a bit?” She hated the drunken locals more than the alleged pirates who frequented the saloon. At least pirates had some semblance of manners. “Wot’s good for one man is good for another.” He scratched his scraggly blond beard and leered.

“The answer is no, and will always be such as long as I have breath in my body.” Jacqueline shivered as repulsion crept over her. When she attempted to step around the man, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his lap. “Unhand me, if you know what’s good for you.” Being the only child of a Navy officer had taught her a few tricks in self-defense. Though she’d never had cause to implement them, Jacqueline was anxious to put them into practice.

“In good time--after ye give me a kiss.” His breath smelled of rotted fish and ale, and was powerful enough to make Jacqueline dry heave. Blackened teeth only served to emphasize the gaps in his gums that once held others. “When a bird dresses like that, she’s always tryin’ to catch a man’s eye.”

“Let go.” Jacqueline squirmed in the strong man’s hold as his hand fumbled at her skirts. When it disappeared beneath the fabric to scrape her stocking-clad leg with calloused fingers, she struggled more fiercely, but he held her fast. Tears of rage gathered in her eyes. Her heart pounded so loud she was sure the whole of the room could hear it. “Unhand me at once.”

Her attacker laughed in her face and another blast of foul air assaulted her. “Or wot? Ye’ll call the constable?” He thrust his face closer. “They don’t come out this way at night if they knows wots good for ‘em. More’n one Navy cur has met ‘is maker in a dark alley ‘round ‘ere.”

Swallowing the fear that clogged her throat, Jacqueline seized a liquor bottle from the table. “I did warn you.” She brought the vessel down hard across the dirty man’s temple. “Nasty bastard.” As he slumped in his chair, dazed but not unconscious, Jacqueline scrambled to her feet, breathing hard.

“Ye’ll pay fer that, doxy.” He lurched to a standing position, the wicked blade of a knife now in his hand. “I’ll ‘ave yer blood.” The cut on the side of his head oozed red in a thick stream.

The stranger sauntered over to them, an almost complacent attitude about him. “Touch the woman again, and it will be your blood that’s spilled this night.” A jewel-encrusted dagger glinted in the flickering candlelight. “One more life on my conscience will not make much difference to my chance at heaven.”

Jacqueline jumped out of the way when the dirty man slashed at the newcomer. From the corner of her eye, she saw Alexander move about the perimeter of the room, no doubt on his way to summon the law enforcement or a few of his Navy buddies. She gritted her teeth, annoyed. Would it kill him to throw protocol out the window for one moment and fight for her honor? Could he not be bothered to demand retribution of her near-molestation, not to mention the threat to her life? Jacqueline’s gaze focused on the tanned man, and her breath caught in her throat.

A fierce scowl of concentration shadowed his face as he circled the scruffy fisherman, his lips set in a tight line. As he moved closer to the wall sconces, his raven hair gleamed almost blue, his thick brows slanted down as he jabbed at his opponent.

In an instant, Jacqueline made a decision. She clutched at the pirate’s free hand. “Let him be. He is not worth it, and will just pick a new fight tomorrow.” When a muscle flexed beneath her fingers, and she immediately dropped her hand. A flutter started in her stomach and fanned outward to tingle over the rest of her body. “Oh.” The word was barely more than a squeak.

“You do not wish him to die--or at least be maimed--for attempting to defile you?” The man’s dark brown eyes burned into her. They invited her to drown herself in the mysterious depths, coaxed her to come close to learn the secrets he hid. A hint of a smile hovered on his lips.

“It is not necessary to put yourself at risk.” Her insides warmed at his attention, and then just as quickly, she pulled on his arm. “Look out.”

The bearded man rushed at the pirate, and soon the two were locked in a scuffle that upended tables and scattered chairs in their wake. Bedlam erupted in the bar. Shouts and cries mingled with grunts and exclamations of pain as the fight grew in intensity. Pockets of fighting ebbed and crashed into each other until one huge, pugilistic battle raged. Glass shattered and someone slammed a toothless man into the wall in front of Jacqueline. The sickening thud of him hitting the floor echoed in her mind.

Through it all, her eyes followed the pirate. He exchanged one fight partner for another, as fists flared and curses flew. The light was too dim and his black cape hid his body from her view. The urge to ascertain if the rest of him matched the strength she felt in his arm overruled her common sense. She moved a step closer. A gunshot echoed through the room, and the acrid smell of gunpowder perfumed the air. The door crashed open to bring her--and everyone else--to an abrupt halt. Alexander and two other men immediately waded into the fray and quickly brought order to the melee.

“Cease and desist this instant or all of you will be incarcerated and hanged at the first opportunity.” Alexander punched the smelly, bearded man then kicked him as he groveled on the floor. He gestured to a compatriot. “Round these men up, anyway. I tire of the lot. We’ll sort them later.” When he threw a look her way, Jacqueline drew in a quick breath at the harsh lines of abhorrence on his face. “Miss Massey, I will accompany you home at once. I wish to spare you more unpleasantness.”

“You do me no favors, Alexander.” She hated this cold, impersonal side to him, and wondered anew if this was the man she’d be living with if she accepted his soon-to-be-offered proposal. She’d rarely seen him in an unguarded, light-hearted moment. “I can take care of myself, as you well know.”

“Nevertheless, I will rest easy when you are safe behind closed doors, away from these ruffians.”

“Perhaps the lady does not wish to be ordered about like a child.” The pirate’s voice sounded from behind her. “You do her a disservice by treating her thusly.” He stepped around her; the soft folds of his cloak brushed her arm as he moved.

“This matter does not concern you, stranger.” Alexander frowned and gestured with his pistol. “Your name, sir.”

The man laughed. The deep, rich sound made Jacqueline’s feminine core throb with unaccustomed and unfamiliar longing. “That is one of my last personal possessions and not available for trade, but I will share the moniker many have bestowed upon me in recent years.” He made a formal bow from the waist. “I am called the Black Thief of the Islands.”

“Pirate,” Jacqueline breathed as excitement shivered along her spine.

“Aye.” The man gave her a half grin that didn’t light his hooded eyes. “And I have changed my order from before.”

Her cheeks flamed under his strong scrutiny. “I do not understand.”

“There is one thing I desire much more than fresh food.”

“And that would be?” Her voice shook, but not from fear. Anticipation made her insides quake as he slipped an arm around her waist. His fingers warmed her skin through the layers of fabric. It did not occur to her to struggle.

“A woman.”

“Take your filthy hands off the lady.” Alexander’s eyes flashed a warning as he yanked her from the pirate. “I’ll not ask you again, Jacqueline. Leave. Now.”

As Alexander’s companions dragged the snarling and swearing pirates and drunken regulars from the room, Alexander and the pirate locked gazes. One man held a pistol, the other gripped a dagger. She stifled a sigh, as her gaze moved from one to the other, a contrast of right and wrong, of old-world gallantry and new-world might that caused her heart to flutter and her stomach to clench. Jacqueline wrenched away from the Navy man, and stood, wracked with uncertainty, between them.

Then, as if in slow motion, Alexander raised his pistol and leveled it at the pirate. “On second thought, I will try you right here. At least we won’t have to spend the resources to hunt you down.” He cocked the weapon, the sound almost deafening in the silence. “I find you guilty of treason against the American government and with piracy on the high seas.”

In one swift motion, the Black Thief of the Islands pulled his own pistol from beneath the billows of his cape. “My end may be near, but I rather doubt it will be tonight or by your hand.”

“This is madness.” Jacqueline stumbled out of their circle. Stupid men and their posturing. “Go ahead and kill yourselves. Alexander, you are no better than the pirates you despise if you kill him.”

“I can do no less than my job.”

“And mine is being a pirate.” The Black Thief fired, and the flare from the pistol was sudden and brief in the gloom. The flames in the sconces flickered.

Jacqueline shrieked when Alexander dropped to his knees with a stunned expression. “Are you hurt badly?” She knelt at his side. A bloom of red seeped through his white shirt at his left shoulder. “Alexander?”

“I will be fine.” He raised his pistol. “Move, so I might finish this.”

“Enough violence.” Jacqueline ripped the weapon from his hand and laid it carefully on one of the only intact tables. “You need a doctor.” The metallic smell of blood made her stomach pitch. “Let me run for Doc Allenson, and--”

“I don’t think so, ma’am.” The pirate interrupted her. He holstered his pistol and dagger with a wicked grin on his lips. “You will accompany me instead. And I always get what I want.”

The excitement from earlier turned into a cold panic as he advanced upon her. “No. I’m not going anywhere with you.” She scrambled to her feet. Her knees shook so badly, she thought she might slump to the floor. “Stay away.”

“Come willingly, and your grace and dignity will remain intact, or I can take you kicking and screaming, but either way, you leave with me.” He held out a hand, and the long, slim fingers beckoned with their offer of freedom or ruin.

Jacqueline couldn’t determine which she craved more. She swallowed and looked to Alexander for help.

“We will come after you, Jackie.” He winced and pressed his hand to his wound. Blood oozed around the fingers. “I’d rather you be alive and in need of rescue, than dead before me because of stubbornness. At least this way, we have a chance.”

Coward. Her stomach pitched at the fact Alexander took a bullet for her, but his smug, arrogant smile killed the emotion. Jacqueline itched to slap his face, but doubted it would do any good. She glanced at the pirate, and the mocking glint in his dark eyes made her heart race. She glared. “I’ll come with you, but if you lay a hand on me, you will be sorry.”

His bark of laughter unnerved her. “We are well beyond that, my dear.”

As she backed away, he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than a down-filled pillow. “Put me down!” She beat her fists against his back, noting with alarm that he was indeed as well muscled as she thought.

“All in good time.” With those parting words, he carried her through the maze of broken furniture and into the humid night.