Sweet Piracy Read Online Free Page A

overwhelming, and, as he advanced, Caroline took an involuntary step backward, coming up against the edge of the bunks.
    “Stay where you are!” she said, steadying the pistol with both hands on the target of the man’s broad chest. “Stop right there, or I will fire.”
    “Put down the pistol and you will not be harmed. I give you my word as Captain of the Black Eagle. ”
    He spoke in English in deference to her as a passenger on an English ship, though his speech held a French inflection. Whatever the accent, his words carried conviction. Caroline might have believed him if the men behind him had not been edging forward, a strained waiting in their stance. Somewhere in the back of the group a man laughed, an ugly sound in the tense silence.
    Caroline was hideously aware of the trembling in her arms and lower limbs. It was an effort to unclench her teeth enough to speak. “You broke down the door merely to inform us of that, I suppose?”
    “A mistake. This is war. One does not often find women on the seas.” His tone was conciliatory. Caroline wavered, and he made his second mistake. He eased forward.
    “I warn you—” she began, then had time for no more as with a swordsman’s catlike grace he lunged at her. Instinctively she brought the pistol to bear, pressed the trigger.
    The explosion was deafening. The recoil shuddered through her, throwing her off balance for a moment. Acrid blue smoke filled the room, making her eyes water.
    Then the pistol was wrenched from her nerveless fingers. As her vision cleared, Caroline found the Captain of the Black Eagle perilously close, almost against her as he clung with one hand to the upright of the bunk above her head. Blood splattered his shirt, spreading in an ever-widening patch from a wound low in his side.
    A grim smile crossed his bearded face. “Clear the cabin,” he said over his shoulder. “Post a guard outside this door.”
    Caroline had an instant in which to ream the complete helplessness of her position, and then as the men departed and the room grew quiet, she received the full attention of the Captain.
    His speech was slower than before and had a forced sound. “As I said, you will not be harmed. I claim this ship as a prize according to the rules of the sea and the letter of marque and reprisal granted me by the President of the United States. It will be manned by my men and sailed to the nearest American port. From there you should be able to find your way to your destination. Do I make myself clear?”
    Swallowing with difficulty, Caroline nodded.
    “Neither you, nor your companion,” he went on with a glance at Amélie lying with her eyes closed half across the bunk, “have anything to fear from my men, though I have posted a guard to insure your protection.”
    “Your wound — shouldn’t you — summon help?” Caroline whispered.
    “Your concern is touching,” he said with the ghost of a laugh.
    Caroline compressed her lips into a line, aware of an absurd desire to cry. Sheer nerves, she told herself fiercely, or the effect of the smoke.
    “No, no, don’t frown so,” he said. “I will live. Who knows? Perhaps you will have the chance to try your skill with firearms another time. If it will ease your conscience, however, I will claim a forfeit.”
    Before she could move, he used the butt of her pistol to tip her chin upward. His lips came down on hers in a firm demand, lingering for an instant to taste the sweetness of an infinitesimal response before her hands came up to push with all her strength against his chest.
    He stepped back, a shuttered look coming down over his face as he inclined his head in a polite bow. Turning on his heel, he strode from the cabin, though he moved with a certain stiffness, holding his right arm to his side.
    Her mind in a turmoil, Caroline stood unmoving as the cabin door closed behind him. It was a relief when Amélie stirred, diverting her thoughts, requiring her complete attention.
    It was Amélie who