A | B | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14A | 14B | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30A | 30B | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41A | 41B | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45A | 45B | 46A | 46B | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56A | 56B | 57 | 58A | 58B | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62A | 63 | 64A | 64B | 65 | 66 | 67 | 68 | 69 | 70 | 71 | 72 | 73A | 73B | 74A | 74B | 75 | 76 | 77 | 78 | 79

---

PART III

---

AUGUST, 1780
OFF THE COAST OF FRANCE

ELLIOTT COULD DO nothing while the Indigo burned and his crew repaired the damage Covarrubias had inflicted on his ship, damage he’d allowed because he had promised Celia he would not take the man’s life. Were it not for that promise, he’d have sunk the Indigo the moment they’d sighted it.

He stood on the fo’c’sle with his glass and watched the Thunderstorm prepare to get under way, willing Celia to look his way, but she stood silent and still at the wheel while her lieutenant barked the orders. He swung his glass up to Georgina, who shrugged to indicate that she had no messages to give him.

He pulled out his mirror.

Permission to come aboard?

The girl turned and cupped her hands around her mouth, shouted down to the deck, waited …

Waited …

Waited …

Celia did not move or speak.

Then Georgina straightened and faced him with wide eyes, a tight mouth, and an emphatic shake of her head.

Are you still bound for Algiers?

Málaga.

Her vow to settle Covarrubias’s estate.

Wait for my repairs to be made. I will come with you and assist.

Again a frantic shake of her head. It was then Celia bestirred herself to speak: softly, to Smitty, with her head down, refusing to look at Elliott.

Smitty took up the speaking trumpet.

“Go to Philadelphia and report to Congress,” came his disembodied voice across the water. “Purchase a letter of marque. Do ye want yer land, ye must fight for it like a barbarian Yank.”

At Elliott’s exaggerated nod of understanding, Smitty turned to Celia. Her lips moved. Smitty turned back.

“Stay in American waters. We will find you when we have finished our errands.”

With that, Smitty turned away to go about his business.

Elliott would rather go to Celia right now despite her explicit wishes: defend his actions, comfort her, seduce her, but it would all be for naught. She was caught in an untenable position between her history with and love for Covarrubias, and her love for and pledge to Elliott—who had just killed the love of her youth.

But he had known great loss and he knew that, no matter his pain, he must allow her time and space to grieve.

Without him.

He put his fingers in his mouth and released a shrill whistle that got Georgina’s attention. Tell Camille I love her, he flashed.

Georgina snarled, which made Elliott chuckle in spite of himself.

Tell Celia I love her.

Then the girl’s face split in a wide grin, and she nodded.

Celia—his wife—spun the wheel of her own ship as the sails rose and billowed to turn back and head into the wind.

He turned, livid.

His wife.

He was still unused to that and now resented not having had a chance to grow accustomed to it.

Her own ship.

It was one of the things he loved about her, and yet she had the freedom to leave him at any time—freedom no other married woman in the world had.

Never. I gave you my word and I love you and I do not like being parted from you.

Never had lasted little more than a month.

Then again, he had just slain a man she loved.

We will find you …

Had she meant that?

“Cap’n, the Black Demon’s headed for us with the intention of helping us refit, and the Mad Hangman signals that she’ll be on patrol as long as we’re making repairs.”

He sucked in a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his mouth. God almighty, it was good to sail in a fleet again.

“What of the Iron Maiden?”

“Cap’n Dunham’s rowing out to us in a dinghy. Alone.”

“Damn.”

Elliott’s new father-in-law was the last person he wanted to talk to at the moment, yet he had no choice but to suffer this visit: The Silver Shilling would be going nowhere until the most critical holes in his ship were patched.

“You’re a damned fool,” Yeardley hissed at him, utterly enraged.

“Aye, I know,” Elliott murmured. “Tell the men they’ll get triple share when we land. They’ve more than earned it.”

“If we land.”

Elliott speared him with a glance. “Ian. In over twenty years, have I ever failed you? You do remember the decision I made in Casco Bay, do you not?”

Yeardley’s face pinkened a bit, but he did not argue. “I take your point,” he said low. “I’ll remind the crew.”

With that, Elliott went to his cabin to wait for Dunham, lounging on the padded bench in front of his windows, drinking rum and brooding.

I stand with my husband.

He could kiss her for that.

Yet she had not turned her guns on Covarrubias, and would not have even if Elliott had requested she do so.

What was he to make of that? What would he have done?

That was no question. He would have done the smart thing to spare his crew and his vessel, which was exactly what Celia had done, and the very thing Elliott now resented.

He didn’t move when, a half hour later, he first heard the thud of heavy boots below and a thundering voice ringing out over the sound of hurried construction:

“JUDAS! GET YOUR ARSE OUT HERE, BOY!”

He rolled his eyes and ignored Dunham’s theatrics. It was only a moment or two before he heard the thunk of boot heels coming up the stairs to the quarterdeck, then across it toward his cabin, then the pounding of a large fist upon his door.

“Come,” Elliott drawled and took another swig of rum. “You will anyway.”

Like Elliott, Dunham had to duck to get in the door. He slammed it behind him and threw himself into a chair.

“I hope,” Elliott said, knowing he was a mite drunk, “that you are not also interested in that figurehead.”

“Nay,” he grunted.

“Because at this point, I have far too much invested in it not to kill anybody who comes near it.”

Dunham laughed as he looked around Elliott’s cabin with undisguised appreciation. “Very nice, m’boy. I’m impressed.”

Elliott looked out at the ocean where the sun sank into it, turning the water bright gold, and took another long pull.

“What do you want, old man?”

“I wanted to thank ye for puttin’ Covarrubias out of me misery.”

“Yours?”

“Aye, I hated the bastard.”

Well, now that Dunham had said it, it didn’t surprise Elliott in the least. “Why? For turning Celia into a … how did she put it? ‘Spoiled bitch’?”

“Aye, that, an’ seducing her in the first place.”

Elliott rolled his head on his neck until he was looking at his father-in-law. “Because, of course, someone as virtuous as Covarrubias would never stoop so low as to seduce a brilliant and reasonably fetching girl entrusted to his care for the next five years—especially not the daughter of Captain James Dunham, the Scots corsair of the Barbary Coast.”

Dunham’s mouth tightened.

“You should’ve been flogged just for being so bloody stupid,” Elliott muttered. “Or willful, because Covarrubias never was one to resist a dare.” He paused. “Indulge my curiosity: What order had you given her that she felt moved to spit in your face?”

He hesitated, then mumbled, “Cut her hair.”

“Why did you care if she cut her hair or not? Yours is as long as hers is.”

Dunham said nothing.

I will never be able to make him happy … Because I am female … I like being a woman … I’d defy him again. And for the same reason.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered, rubbing his mouth. “You really did want a son, didn’t you?”

Dunham started. “I’ve never made that claim,” he protested.

“You didn’t have to,” Elliott snarled. “You called her Jack. You sent ’er to Covarrubias as a boy, expectin’ she’d keep the masquerade.”

“Shut yer yap, Iscariot. Her mother’s already strung me up on the yardarm for that, an’ I wager she’ll not let it go for a while.”

Elliott cackled and realized he was already well and truly soused. Exactly how many bottles of rum had he drunk since he’d retired to his cabin?

It didn’t matter. His speech was slipping back into the brogue he’d fought to conquer—and he did not care.

“Ye know she hates that, don’t ye? Jack.”

Dunham stared at Elliott stonily. It wouldn’t be long until he came across the floor at him.

“She loves the name she goes by on land, did ye know? Seeeeeleeea. So feminine an’ delicate. An’ ye couldn’t leave it there, could ye? Calico Jack. ’Tis an extra measure of insult, when she’s more man than he ever was.”

Still Elliott expected Dunham to charge him, thrusting both of them through the glass and plunging them into the ocean, but no.

“’Twas because of the hold cat she took for a pet,” Dunham muttered. “Calico cat. Calico Jack.”

“You poured all your energies into buildin’ a son,” he slurred, “an’ still grew a daughter with the body of a siren who enjoyed bein’ a woman.” Elliott wanted to slam his fist in the man’s face. “Occurs to me that cuttin’ a woman’s hair’s the female equivalent o’ castration. No wonder she took up with a eunuch, bein’ nearly gelded herself. Did you cut her hair after you flogged her?”

“Nay,” he murmured after a long moment of silence. “I couldna bear to.”

Then Elliott’s pickled brain managed to parse something else. “Aye, I see,” he drawled. “You didn’t need to after ye cut off her tits with yer cat o’ nine. Too many bloody cats in this tale.” And Elliott snickered at his own jest.

The look of deep remorse on the man’s face did finally manage to pierce Elliott’s fog. Dunham knew what he’d done. And would regret it for the rest of his life.

---

If you don’t want to wait 2 years to get to the end, you can buy it here.
Pirates!