The Buccaneer (Pirates of the Coast) Read online

  “Shall I sit with you, until you sleep?” Madalene drew back the counterpane on the huge four-poster. “I could read to you, if you wish. Indeed, I am at your disposal.”

  “No, thank you.” Francie glanced at her small bag of belongings, which her father delivered to the residence. “But I appreciate the offer.”

  “Have you told Cager of the pregnancy?” Madalene asked, in a small voice.

  “How did you know?” Francie hugged her belly.

  “I know the symptoms, which you manifest in spades.” Madalene sighed. “I gather from the expression on your face, he does not know of his impending fatherhood.”

  “No, he does not, but I will tell him, I promise.” Francie fluffed a pillow. “Goodnight, dear Madalene.”

  “Rest well, my sister, because we have a wedding to plan, a dress to buy, and a menu and a guest list to compose. I envision an outdoor ceremony, in the gazebo, near the willow tree. Oh, I want to give you everything you deserve.” Pausing with her hand on the knob, Madalene peered over her shoulder. “It is so good to have you home, as this house was a sad place without you. Perhaps because, in so many ways, you are its heart.”

  “I love your idea, and I thank you for everything.” Francie blew Madalene a kiss, as she shut the door.

  Alone, Francie flung aside the covers, jumped from the bed, set the bolt, and rummaged through her things until she found the tiny box. Inhaling a deep breath, she lifted the lid and studied the ring upon which she cast the charm.

  The poesy ring doth devotion signify,

  On a sparkling emerald the faithful can rely.

  All others the bauble spurns,

  If murky the stone turns.

  As the heart is true, and gold is pure,

  Let a green stone endure, and your love is sure.

  Although she accepted Cager’s proposal, in full view of Judge Story, Rev. Seraphim, and the others, that did not mean she had to go through with a wedding. Indeed, she could not marry Cager until she knew if their love was true, and there was only one way to know for sure.

  Closing her eyes, she slipped the precious bauble on her finger.

  A knock at the door startled her, and she jumped. “Who is it?”

  It is me,” Cager replied, in a quiet tone. “Let me in, Francie.”

  “No.” She marched to the oak panel and folded her arms. “I will not abuse Mrs. Cavalier’s hospitality or besmirch her dignity by violating the dictates of propriety, beneath her roof, sir.”

  “I do not give a damn about propriety, and if you think I can wait until October to share your bed, you are out of your mind.” He rattled the knob, and she retreated a step. “Now open the bloody door, or I will kick it down.”

  “No.”

  “Francie, so help me—”

  “I said no, now go away.” Resting fists on hips, for several minutes she remained on guard for any sign of forced entry, but all remained calm, to her surprise and, if she was honest with herself, disappointment. Could he not have protested just a tad? A tap at the window left her reeling, and she shrieked in horror when she parted the drapes and discovered him dangling from the ledge. “Cager.”

  As she threw up the sash, he chuckled and crawled inside, to safety. “Woman, I will not be denied. Not now, not after what we survived.”

  “Silly, ridiculous fool.” She stomped a foot. “Just what madness do you think you are about? You could have been killed.”

  “And that matters to you?” In the blink of an eye, his demeanor altered, and he pounced. “Ah, I have missed you, Francie, my love. Insult me, as it has been too long.”

  “You are truly insane.” When she refused his kiss, he trailed his lips along the crest of her ear, and her knees buckled as she revisited memories of their glorious night. “If you had another brain, it would be lonely.”

  “That is my saucy wench.” As he guffawed, he walked his fingers down her back, to caress her bottom through her thin nightgown, and searing heat poured into her veins. “Help me undress, sweetheart.”

  “Why should I?” Even as she voiced the inquiry, she loosened his cravat. “When you found it so easy to leave me?”

  “You could not be more mistaken, love.” He tossed aside the yard-length of linen and unhooked the collar of his shirt. “Since I cast off, I have been in hell, and it is a dark and miserable world without you.”

  “Why did you go, without so much as a simple farewell, which would have spared me untold anguish?” The pain of the past intruded on their tender reunion, and she wrenched free. “Do you think you can utter an apology and all is forgiven?” Pressing a clenched fist to her bosom, she shook her head. “You hurt me.”

  “I know that.” With a furrowed brow, he nodded once. “And I gutted myself, in the process. Believe me, you are not the only one who suffered because of my actions.”

  “But that is not all.” Facing him, she gritted her teeth, as she rode a wave of high dudgeon. “You left me here to deal with the consequences, although I expect nothing from you.”

  And so it was done.

  Despite her wishes, she delivered the momentous news in anger, when she would have celebrated the revelation.

  At first, Cager said naught, as he stared at her. Then he sobered. “You are with child, and I am to be a father.”

  It was a statement, not a question.

  When she dipped her chin, he took three steps in her direction, knelt before her, wrapped his arms about her hips, and pressed his face to her belly.

  “This is not how I would have told you.” As she speared her fingers through his thick brown hair, she bent and hugged him. When she discovered he wept, she massaged his scalp and whispered words of comfort. It was then she noticed the ring, with its large emerald still a shimmering, clear green stone, and she recalled the spell. “You love me. You truly love me.”

  “Of course, I do.” Shuffling her in his grasp, he stood and cupped her cheek. “And I cannot bear to lose you, so you will marry me.”

  “But you will not lose me, because I will never leave you.” Then she remembered his sad history, and suddenly everything made sense. “That is why you fled Boston, after we consummated our relationship. While you accused me of running from you, in reality, you ran from me.”

  “Aye, and I am ashamed to admit it.” At her prompting, they savored a tender kiss, and he framed her face with his hands. “I thought I could have it both ways. I thought I could share your body and yet maintain my distance. I thought I could taste all you have to offer and let you go, but I cannot, so you will be my wife and insult me for the rest of my life.”

  “Careful, my darling.” She unhooked his shirt, pulled it free from his breeches, and splayed her palms to his bare chest. “You harbor delusions of competence.”

  “Ah, Francie, you stir my blood.” Cager nudged her nose with his. “And I am bewitched.”

  “Oh?” With her teeth, she nipped his chin. “You are also my beloved.”

  THE BUCCANEER

  EPILOGUE

  Boston

  February, 1819

  The wind whipped and howled, as a wicked storm battered Boston in a dazzling display of nature’s omnipotence, which struck Cager as appropriate for the occasion. In the second floor room he shared with Francie, at the Cavalier residence, a tempest of another sort intensified, sending the attendants into a frenzy of activity. Gritting his teeth, he held his delicate bride’s hand, as she suffered another wave of agony, and it damn near brought him to his knees.

  While most men abandoned their wives during childbirth, given his tragic history, he refused to leave her side, as the doctor perched between her thighs and barked orders. After more than eight hours of labor, Cager was not sure he could endure another minute of the hardship, and he uttered another in a long list of prayers, in silence.

  “Are you all right?” Panting, with beads of perspiration gathered at her upper lip and her temples, Francie closed her eyes, as he patted her forehead with a cool compress. “Because you
look terrified.”

  “You are having the babe, and you are worried about me?” He snorted and then jumped, as she scrunched her face. “Yes, I am terrified. I am bloody well beside myself, because you are my world.”

  “Do not be afraid, my darling.” Elbowing him in the ribs, she cast a heart-wrenching smile that tore at his gut. “Hold onto me, and gain strength, as I am supported by you.”

  “If it would help hasten the situation, I would balance on my blasted head.” Accustomed to issuing commands, Cager knew not quite how to take them, but he acquiesced to her request. With care, he slid his arms beneath her, while Madalene removed the pillows, and he inched behind his wife, so he would not jolt her. Cradling her, he kissed her temple, as she rested her head to his chest. “Better?”

  “Much, and please, do not swear, as the baby might hear it.” He was not going to argue with that bit of logic, as she furrowed her brow and gasped for breath. “Oh.”

  “All right, Mrs. Tyne, I see the crown, and this is it.” The physician scooted closer and narrowed his stare. “Right now, I need you to push—hard.”

  Secure in his embrace, Francie tensed, and Cager stretched upright, as never in his life had he felt more a man than he did as he held his pregnant wife. With an ear-splitting scream, which reached a feverish crescendo, his bride shuddered, and then there was blood. So much blood.

  Images from the past flashed before him, and he transported to another time and place, where misery and incalculable grief won the day, and he vowed that would not happen again. Panicked, Cager remained stock-still, until an impressive squall rattled the rooftops. Only then did he exhale.

  “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Tyne.” Dr. Quimby passed the tiny but noisy bundle to Madalene, who set the child on a nearby table, where the nanny commenced an impromptu bath, much to the babe’s expressed displeasure. “You have a healthy boy.”

  “Oh, Cager.” In that instant, Francie beamed with unveiled triumph. “I gave you an heir.”

  “Yes, you did.” He bent his head, and they shared a tender kiss. “But I would argue you have given me everything, just as you promised, Francie, and I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” As she caressed his cheek, she spoke to him in the language that was uniquely her own, and he returned her devotion, measure for measure, as he pressed his lips to her palm.

  “You look like you need a nap, sweetheart.” Gently, he withdrew from her and reset the pillows for support. “What can I do for you, as I am your grateful servant?”

  “Cager, why do you not take the baby downstairs, while I tend Francie, change the linens, and put her to bed?” Madalene approached, with his newborn swaddled in a pale blue blanket. “I know Jean Marc is anxious to meet the most recent addition to our extended family, and then you can deliver your son to the nanny.”

  With no fanfare, she placed his child in his outstretched arms, and the significance of that singular sliver in time dawned on him, in that instant.

  It was a momentous occasion, to hold a new life in his embrace. To marvel at the tiny hand that clung to his finger, the combined creation born of unfettered love. To humble the father at the miracle of birth. To remind him of what mattered most.

  Warm and somewhat perturbed, given his fussy grouses, his offspring boasted a shock of dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a strong personality, as evidenced by his strident cries, and Cager carried him to Francie.

  “He has your nose, sweetheart.” Overtaken with emotion, he laughed, to conceal his tremulous state. “But I made my mark, too.”

  “He is a smaller version of you.” She giggled, kissed the baby’s head, and then yawned. “Should I feed him?”

  “Let me get you cleaned, changed into a fresh nightgown, and comfortable, first.” Madalene clapped, and the servants moved into place. “I wager the babe may be in need of a nap, but you can always nurse him, if necessary. Now, if you will excuse us, Cager.”

  “Of course.” Rocking from side to side, he strolled into the hall. “Do you see how it is? You are here a mere five minutes, and the women are already telling us what to do, and we have but to obey. So you and I should be allies.”

  As if to reply, the babe gurgled and cooed.

  Halfway down the stairs, Cager halted.

  An eerie presence surrounded and enveloped him, and he could not contain his smile. Gazing heavenward, he nodded an acknowledgement.

  “My dear Adele, if you can hear me, know that I am happy, at long last. Indeed, I am content beyond my wildest dreams.” Soothing calm eased the tension investing his spine, the sorrow that marred his history ebbed like the evening tide, and he heaved a sigh of relief. “You taught me how to share my heart, and I am so sorry we never enjoyed the future we planned, but I hope you found peace, my dear.”

  As he descended to the first floor and walked into the entry hall, the long case clock signaled the hour, and he took it as a sign that all was well.

  The door to the study flung open, and Jean Marc spied Cager and arched a brow. “How is Francie?”

  “In excellent health.” Now the tears flowed, and Cager swallowed hard. “Madalene cares for my wife.”

  “I gather congratulations are in order, mon ami.” In friendship, Jean Marc rested a palm to Cager’s shoulder. “And who is this?”

  “Old friend, allow me to introduce you to Clinton Ephraim Tyne.” Even as he wept with unabashed joy, Cager chuckled. “I have a son.”

  “I am happy for you.” Jean Marc wagged a finger. “But keep him away from my daughters.”

  ABOUT BARBARA DEVLIN

  USA Today Bestselling Author Barbara Devlin was born a storyteller, but it was a weeklong vacation to Bethany Beach, DE that forever changed her life. The little house her parents rented had a collection of books by Kathleen Woodiwiss, which exposed Barbara to the world of romance, and Shanna remains a personal favorite. Barbara writes heartfelt historical romances that feature flawed heroes who may know how to seduce a woman but know nothing of marriage. And she prefers feisty but smart heroines who sometimes save the hero, before they find their happily ever after. Barbara earned an MA in English and continued a course of study for a Doctorate in Literature and Rhetoric. She happily considered herself an exceedingly eccentric English professor, until success in Indie publishing lured her into writing, full-time, featuring her fictional knighthood, the Brethren of the Coast.

  Connect with Barbara Devlin at BarbaraDevlin.com, where you can sign up for her newsletter, The Knightly News.

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BarbaraDevlinAuthor

  Twitter: @barbara_devlin

  TITLES BY

  BARBARA DEVLIN

  BRETHREN OF THE COAST SERIES

  Loving Lieutenant Douglas: A Brethren of the Coast Novella

  Enter the Brethren

  My Lady, the Spy

  The Most Unlikely Lady

  One-Knight Stand

  Captain of Her Heart

  The Lucky One

  Love with an Improper Stranger

  To Catch a Fallen Spy

  Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me: A Brethren of the Coast Novella

  The Duke Wears Nada

  BRETHREN ORIGINS

  Arucard

  Demetrius

  Aristide

  Morgan

  PIRATES OF THE COAST

  The Black Morass

  The Iron Corsair

  The Buccaneer

  The Marooner

  Once Upon a Christmas Knight (The Nutcracker Reimagined)

  KATHRYN LE VEQUE’S KINDLE WORLD OF DE WOLFE PACK

  Lone Wolfe

  The Big Bad De Wolfe

  Tall, Dark & De Wolfe (January 2018)

  OTHER STORIES

  Magick, Straight Up

  A Taste of Magick (A Haven Harbor Halloween)

  The Stablemaster’s Daughter (Regency Rendezvous)

  Table of Contents

  The Buccaneer

  Copyright

  The magick of love conquers all..
.

  Dedication

  The Poesy Ring Charm

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  About Barbara Devlin

  Titles by Barbara Devlin