Pirate's Angel

Chapter 1

Fall 1814
Chesapeake Bay

With quick, impatient strides, Drake Jordan walked past the line of captives gathered on the deck of the captured ship. He gazed with disinterest at their cold, huddled forms, hardly noticing the two women who were standing at the far edge of the men. As he strode closer, he was aware that both nervously tightened their arms around the child that each was holding.

His lips twisted wryly at the frightened gesture. Though the women didn't know it, they were safe enough from harm since the pirate crew of the Black Cauldron were under strict orders to keep their minds--and their bodies--only on the task at hand. With hostile frigates patrolling the surrounding waters, there was no time to spare if they wanted to finish up with the Wild Swan and disappear safely into the coming dusk.

When he walked past the first woman, she stared openly at him, her plain features reflecting her fear as she cradled the heavily swaddled newborn baby in her arms. The second woman had her face averted, almost hidden in the dark curls of the young boy she was holding. She was shivering, but he didn't know if it was from fear or the brisk, chill wind since she had apparently only had time to slip a coat onto the boy before being forced up onto the deck.

Drake slowed his steps and then halted, intrigued by the little he could see of her. The child in this woman's arms was dark-complexioned, while she herself had skin that was the color of fine alabaster. The father of this boy had to be very swarthy, he decided, to have produced such a child by this fair-skinned creature.

Thoughtfully, he assessed the men in the group to find the husband. While the woman with the newborn baby was pressing nervously against the tall man at her side, no man seemed to be attached to the female who had caught his interest.

As he watched her nervously clutch the boy even tighter to herself, he noticed the slim fingers that were stroking the child's small head in an apprehensive movement. No wedding ring encircled the third finger of her left hand. So there was no husband, he mused.
His eyes swept downward, seeking to see more of the captive despite the boy who was blocking his view. The high-necked dress she wore was dark gray and made of wool. Though plain in design, its cut revealed the feminine contours beneath it were softly slender.

Drake's gaze returned to her face, moving in interest over the averted profile. It was as striking as the beautiful figurehead of a sea maid he had recently felt compelled to buy. The nose was small and straight and the bone structure as delicate as a porcelain doll. Beyond that, he couldn't tell much more, for the gray bonnet completely concealed the color of her hair and the tightly closed eyes kept him from seeing their hue.

His carved sea maid had ebony hair and amethyst eyes, but this woman was probably a blue-eyed blonde, Drake guessed, assessing the pale satin of her skin. Curiosity suddenly made him want to see if his speculation was true.

Parting the open front of the leather greatcoat he was wearing, he tucked his pistol into the waistband of his breeches and stood there patiently, waiting for the woman to open her eyes and face him.

Ivy felt the pirate's eyes boring into her. When he didn't move on after a few seconds, her heart began to beat at an increasingly frantic pace. The captain of the Wild Swan had assured everyone that the trip from Georgetown to Norfolk would be perfectly safe since the ship would never leave the bay. The British blockade would not affect them, he had promised, and he had obviously thought they would be equally safe from marauding pirates, for though there had been recent attacks, they had only involved ships foolish enough to venture out into the Atlantic. It was now all too clear the captain's thinking had been wrong.

Afraid of the pirate's intentions, she nuzzled deeper behind the shield of the child's face, praying he would leave.

When Drake realized the captive wasn't going to look at him, he cleared his throat. She continued to ignore him.

"You can pretend I'm not here," he finally offered in a conversational tone, "but I'm not going to go away until you look at me."

Feeling almost faint at the order, Ivy reluctantly opened her eyes as she raised her face from behind the child she held.
Drake took a startled breath as he looked into eyes that were violet, not blue, and which were staring fearfully at him from a distractingly lovely face. No wonder she had tried to hide her features, he reflected as he took in her oval face, high cheekbones, and sensuously full lips. She was a beauty.

Ivy shuddered as she met the pirate's gaze, for there was no mistaking the interest that shone from the pale blue depths of his eyes. The brisk bay wind roughly tousled his hair, the color of burnished gold, drawing her attention to the contours of his face as the tawny strands whipped against his cheeks. It was an attractive face, a small part of her mind registered, with a strong chin and generous mouth, but there was something in his expression that bespoke a man who was used to giving orders and taking what he wanted. A small gold hoop pierced one ear, a pirate's adornment.

Nervously she swallowed, apprehensive of the strength that was apparent from the way the pirate's leather greatcoat molded to the tall, powerful length of his body. When a sudden gust of wind parted the open front of his coat, revealing a white cambric shirt unfastened nearly to the waist, she caught a glimpse of wiry, golden chest hair and a shocking expanse of corded, male muscle.

Ivy shuddered again, the sight of such virility making her more and more worried about the man's open interest in her.

Now that Drake had seen the color of the captive's eyes, he couldn't resist finding out the color and texture of her hair. He reached out to remove the bonnet.

Frightened by the thought of him touching her, Ivy quickly stepped back, involuntarily clutching the child in her arms. As the boy began to wail in protest, she crooned frantic words into his ear to quiet him.

"Mama!" the boy shrieked, sensing Ivy's fear.

"Hush," Ivy pleaded in a taut whisper, bouncing him slightly in an attempt to stop any more outcries. To her consternation, he broke into tears.

"Mama!" the boy cried again. Turning to the woman standing next to Ivy, he held out his little arms.

At the child's revealing action, a slow smile spread across Drake's face. "Give the boy back to his mother," he ordered. When the captive didn't comply, he gestured to the real mother of the child.

"Take your boy," he demanded. He waited while the mother hastily handed her newborn to her husband so she could gather her older child into her arms.

Now that the boy no longer concealed his view, Drake quickly revised his first impression. He had thought the captive was softly slender, which was true, but the way the bodice of her wool dress fit across the curves of her torso made the word voluptuous spring to his mind.

"What's your name?" he asked softly.

Ivy felt a frightened lump form in her throat. "Ivy," she finally managed to whisper when she was able to form the word. "Ivy Woodruff."

The mate standing guard suddenly shouldered his way through the other captives, his eyes gleaming with a heated interest as he gazed at Ivy.
"I didn't realize this one was such a ripe little piece," he exclaimed.

Drake frowned at the words. Now that the mate was aware of Ivy's abundant charms, he hated to leave her unattended while he finished up with the Wild Swan. He held out his hand to her.

"Come below with me, Ivy," he suggested. "You can keep me company until I leave."

They were the kind of words Ivy had dreaded to hear. Shaking her head, she backed rapidly into the gunwale, her hands behind her back to refuse him.

Drake's frown deepened at the sight. There had been a time in his life when he had enjoyed the heady power that came with his adventures on the high seas, but the sight of Ivy reacting to him in such fear gave him no pleasure.

He started to reach out to grasp Ivy's arm but stopped as she pressed even harder against the gunwale. She looked so pale and was breathing so erratically he was afraid she might faint if he laid a hand on her.
"If I promise not to touch you," he murmured, "will you come with me?"
Ivy gave her head a quick, negative shake.

Drake leaned closer so that his next words would reach only Ivy. "Would you rather I left you alone with him?" He gave a curt nod in the direction of the mate.

Ivy cast a nervous glance at the man in question. His face was disfigured with battle scars, and he was missing several fingers on his left hand. Worse than that was the unconcealed lust in his dark eyes as he looked at her.

"No." The word was barely audible.

"Then come along." Drake motioned for Ivy to accompany him, wanting her to come of her own accord.

With slow uncertain movements, Ivy straightened away from the gunwale, taking a hesitant step toward Drake.

"Captain Cauldron said no ruttin' on this haul," the mate reminded Drake, his voice hoarse with envy, "but since ya be on such good terms wid him, mayhaps he won't care if ya make it quick."

"Captain Cauldron?" Ivy whispered, disbelief filling the words. Craning her head, she looked over to the pirate ship to see its Jolly Roger. The twelve-cannon schooner sat high in the water, its two-masted, square-rigged sails luffing in the wind to prevent any movement. At the top of the foremast, a black flag with the picture of a skeleton pulling riches from a large cauldron confirmed the identity of the pirate captain. At the sight, angry sparks suddenly replaced the fear that had filled her eyes.

She glared up at Drake. "History will not repeat itself!" she said savagely. "Not with me! I won't bear a pirate's child!"

The sudden transformation from fear to sheer, vibrating animosity fascinated Drake. "Did I ask you to?" he answered dryly, a touch of humor lacing his words. He grasped her wrist. "Now come with me."

Ivy was determined to avoid the fate she felt sure was waiting for her below. "I want to speak to Captain Cauldron!" she demanded.
"He's too busy."

As Drake's grip tightened, bringing her after him, Ivy dug her heels into the deck to remain where she was.

"Which of you worthless thieves is Captain Cauldron?" she cried loudly to the pirates milling around on deck, knowing the insulting nature of her question would guarantee an audience with the infamous pirate leader.

A hush fell over the crew as their eyes turned in the direction of an attractive, older man standing near the helm. Dressed in a black calfskin jerkin that emphasized his height and wide shoulders, he had a commanding presence that had nothing to do with the gold-trimmed pistol he carried at his side.

"What," Drake muttered into Ivy's ear, "are you trying to do?"

Ivy ignored the question, her eyes fastened intently on the pirate captain. "I see your crew recognizes you for what you are," she called out to him, her deep animosity toward the man evident in her voice. "I demand to speak to you."

Cauldron frowned as he looked up from the entry he had been making on the list of Wild Swan passengers, annoyed both at the woman and the mistake the distraction of her words had caused him to make.

Before deigning to answer her, he dipped his quill into a vial of ink one of his men was holding, meticulously scratched out the error, and then wrote the entry properly. When he finished, his eyes were wintry as he turned his full attention to the captive who had so scornfully called out to him.

He stared at her, the wind ruffling his thick black hair, tinged with silver at the temples. "I'm Keils Cauldron," he finally acknowledged, the clipped words carrying easily across the deck. He handed the quill and list to the pirate at his side. "Bring her over here, Drake."

Ivy didn't wait for the pressure of Drake's hand to bring her forward. Boldly, she closed the distance.

Cauldron scowled as Ivy came to a halt in front of him, staring up at him with undisguised hostility.

"You're lucky you're a woman, or you'd be feeling the back side of my hand right now," he informed her curtly. He braced his long legs apart as a ground swell rocked the ship beneath him. "Now what is it you have to say to me?"

Ivy raised her chin. "I have no intention of allowing this man"--she cast a quick glance at Drake--"to have his way with me."

Considering Drake had temporarily given up command of his own ship to help him raid the Wild Swan, Cauldron knew Drake was too involved in their mission to be thinking about a quick tumble.

"I don't exactly see Drake with his breeches at half-mast," he observed with cold impatience.

"He was going to take me below!" Ivy insisted.

Having more important things to attend to, Cauldron was fast losing interest in the captive's melodrama. But as he considered the grimness of the days gone past, he could see how Drake might benefit from a brief dalliance. He only wished he could find a way to temporarily suspend his own pain, but he knew nothing short of revenge could ever do that for him.

"If you've a mind to be with her, Drake," he said, turning away, "just make it quick. We'll be leaving soon."

Icy fear coursed down Ivy's back at the carelessly spoken words. As her eyes flew to Drake, the steely fingers that were still clamped around her wrist suddenly seemed to burn into her flesh.

"Captain," she cried desperately to Cauldron's retreating back. "Would you let your own daughter be at the mercy of one of your men?"