Revenge of the Siren Song (Rogues of Sea and Sky Book 1) (3 page)

“This will not be a quick end to things, Constance. You may have to bear some more pain before it's over.”

“For my Thomas, I'd bear anything for however long it may take.”

“Then I believe we have chosen well. Congratulations, Constance, you have become a spy.”

The girl beamed impishly.

“I think I know just the way to get her aboard the
Ocean’s Whore
without raising suspicions. Do you mind if I take her aboard the
Siren Song
with me and prepare her for her duties?”

“Not at all, Captain. I assumed you would.”

“Liam O'Shea, you are a man of great wisdom,” Grace smiled and led the girl out of the Corazon de la Mar. Constance was about to begin the adventure of a lifetime.

Chapter 5

Setting the Trap

The
Siren Song
had taken her time to make port in Port Royal, Jamaica. Captain O'Shea and the
Black Dragon
had already concluded their business and sailed on for other ports and vital contacts by the time she arrived. Captain O’Malley had taken the time to ready young Constance, now Pippa to match her girlish persona, for her task aboard the enemy ship.

Pippa flitted about the cabin nervously as the ship carefully made its way into the harbor. Captain O'Malley had ordered the British colors raised and instructed the crew as to their identities while in port. Hawkins donned a fine captain's uniform and stood proudly on deck to greet the harbor pilot. As far as the port authorities knew, the
Siren Song
was bearing a family of British nobility to their new estate in the New World.

“Tell me again how you plan to place me aboard the
Ocean’s Whore
,” Pippa asked.

“Captain Shireland needs experienced help in the galley aboard the
Whore
. She is soon to put into port here, and is sure to seek the recommendation of a trusted friend. No doubt the first person she will seek out is old Peter Penn, a fellow American.”

“But I've never met Peter Penn. Why would he tell her about me?”

“Because, my dear Pippa, Peter Penn is hopelessly enamored with one Mademoiselle Lisette, and would do anything she asked without question.”

“But I've never met Mademoiselle Lisette, either!” Pippa wailed in confusion.

“Lisette is an old friend of mine, my dear girl. I was able to help her start a new life here in Jamaica some years ago. She has been a grateful and loyal friend ever since.”

Grace would have continued, but a knock came upon the cabin door. Bartolo entered.

“Begging your pardon, Captain, but the longboat has returned with your guest aboard.”

“Thank you, Bartolo. Bring her here at once,” Grace replied. Turning to Pippa, she smiled. “Now you will meet Mademoiselle Lisette.”

Within moments Bartolo returned, escorting a buxom woman with cascading blonde hair. Pippa was transfixed as she watched the curvaceous figure seem to float into the cabin.

“Captain O'Malley, so good to see you again,” the woman exclaimed and kissed Grace on both cheeks. “I was so delighted to accept your invitation to come aboard. It has been far too long since I have had the opportunity to dress someone as comely as you are,” she chattered on, the words dripping softly from her lips in the manner of the French.

“Lisette, to be dressed by someone as skilled as you is a great pleasure indeed.”

Bartolo and two other crewmen entered, each carrying a small leather trunk. They set them before Mademoiselle Lisette and departed once more.

As suddenly as a change in the wind, Lisette's countenance shifted from light and airy to serious and intense. “Now that we shall be left alone, tell me about our young companion.” It seemed to Pippa as though Lisette was looking right through her.

“Lisette, this is Pippa, the young lady Captain O'Shea mentioned to you.”

Lisette walked toward the lass and drew her out into the light from the cabin windows. She walked around the girl, examining her carefully. Pippa felt as though she could feel the weight of Lisette's discerning gaze.

“She's unassuming enough, but does she have the backbone to see it through?”

As quick as lightning, a small blade flashed from the folds of Pippa's skirts and halted threateningly at the hollow of Lisette's throat. The shocked expression upon Lisette's face lasted only a moment before melting into a wicked smile.

“She is volatile. That will amuse Lizzie. Monsieur Penn is desirous of my company later this evening. I will be sure to mention my cousin's need of escape and her excellent galley skills.”

Pippa slowly relaxed and replaced her blade.

“Merci, my friend,” Grace smiled.

“Trust me, it is a pleasure to give that rotten little sea witch a taste of her own medicine.”

“What did Captain Shireland do to you?” Pippa asked.

“Captain Elizabeth Shireland,” Lisette spat out her name with great distain, “is nothing but a spoiled child who will throw tantrums when she does not get her way. She and that ruffian crew of hers have vandalized my shop on more than one occasion, all because I refused to sell her a gown she fancied.”

“Ah yes, I remember that,” Grace chimed in. “That was the custom order from the Governor's wife, very specific and detailed as I recall.”

“Indeed,” Lisette continued, “it took me weeks to get it just right. I had it on the dress form finishing up the last details when she saw it. The Governor's family is key to my continued success. If I fall out of favor with them, I will lose the business of everyone of note in this medieval backwater. Not to mention, I had already been paid for the gown. And even if I had been free to sell it to her, it would never fit her. The alterations to make it fit her tiny frame would have drastically changed the way it looked. But she would have none of it and stormed out of my shop, spewing curses all the way.”

As she spoke, Lisette had opened the trunks and begun laying out several fine dresses. Pippa certainly understood why Captain Shireland would make such a fuss about garments like those. They were a rival to anything produced in the best shops in London. Grace went through Lisette's offerings and selected two fine gowns as Lisette continued to tell Pippa her story.

“The next morning I found my shop nearly destroyed. Mind you, this was not some drunken rampage through the town. My shop alone was the only one touched. If anyone saw who did it, they never spoke up. The store had been torn apart, all of my stock ruined, and the only thing that was missing was the gown for the Governor's wife. I have no doubt it was Shireland's crew. Now any time they are in port, they vandalize my shop just for spite.”

“You have good reason to see Captain Shireland get the justice she deserves,” Pippa commented.

“Indeed I do, my young friend, but for now it is time for business, and you are going to assist me.”

Under Lisette's direction, Pippa quickly learned the finer points of helping a lady dress in her finery. In no time at all, Captain O'Malley was transformed from a practical sea captain into a well-heeled noblewoman capable of turning heads at court.

Just as they were assessing the quality of their work, a soft rap came upon the cabin door, and Bartolo stepped inside. He opened his mouth to report, but quickly shut it upon seeing Captain O'Malley all turned out.

“My lady,” he said, making a deep bow.

“What news have you, Bartolo?” Grace asked.

“Word has reached the Governor's ears that a noble English family has just arrived in port and he extends an invitation for you to dine with him and his company tonight, milady.”

“Excellent. Please communicate my acceptance of his Excellency's invitation.”

Bartolo went bowing his way back out of the cabin to immediately follow her orders.

Grace turned beaming at Lisette. “Well done, my friend.”

“It is always a great pleasure to provide for such a lady as yourself,” she responded and kissed each cheek her goodbye.

“Pippa, please help Mademoiselle Lisette repack and accompany her back to her shop. You will be staying with her until you can get aboard the
Ocean’s Whore
.”

“Aye, Captain,” she agreed and began to carefully replace the rest of the garments back into the trunks.

Later that evening a fine carriage arrived at the dock to carry Captain O'Malley to the governor's mansion. There she was presented as Lady Grace Whitmore, wife of Sir Charles Whitmore. The governor and all his guests found Lady Whitmore to be a delightful and charming dinner guest, but none was more impressed than the governor's secretary, Mr. John Stapleton. So enamored was he, that he begged the lady's indulgence to escort her about the Governor's city and acquaint her with all its notable places. Lady Whitmore graciously condescended to accept his invitation.

Within a few days, Mr. Stapleton was intimately involved with the delightful Lady Whitmore, who was in no great hurry to arrive at her husband's plantation deep in the Jamaican interior. Grace found Stapleton's company pleasing enough and his position with the governor was most useful. She determined that the connection was so valuable that she stayed behind in Port Royal while the
Siren Song
set sail for a raiding opportunity.

By the time the
Siren Song
returned to her secret cove, Captain O'Shea and the
Black Dragon
were already there waiting. Hawkins dutifully delivered the news of Captain O'Malley's whereabouts and of Pippa's success of joining the crew of the
Ocean’s Whore
. But Liam was not satisfied with Captain O'Malley's reasons for staying in Port Royal, and waiting for her in isolation was untenable. On the pretext of keeping his crew from growing restless, Captain O'Shea once again set sail for Jamaica.

Chapter 6

Interlude

It had been raining heavily and without stop for two days. The rains had given Port Royal a blessed relief from the oppressive tropical heat and even seemed to be washing away some of the stench and filth of the town. John Stapleton, the governor's secretary, lay stretched across the bed as he watched Grace open the window to the rain and morning breeze.

John had indulged himself with a fair share of consorts over the years. All were fine ladies of rank and standing. Most were bored, lonely, and neglected, a combination that usually led to an eagerness for adventure on the part of the ladies. Most also had a common factor of plainness. Decked out in their silks and jewels, they could be quite charming in appearance, but stripped of their noble trappings, they could not be distinguished from any of the overfed scullery maids of London.

Lady Grace Whitmore was the grand exception. She stood at the window in nothing more than a simple cotton night dress. Her hair hung loose, free of all the customary pins and curls. She was the most stunning creature he ever beheld. He grew hard again just looking at the silhouette of her luscious curves beneath the gauzy cotton.

“Grace,” he called wantonly, “come back to me.”

Grace looked over her shoulder and gave him a coy smile before returning her gaze to the window. There was no sense in making things too easy for him. If he wanted more she would make him cross the room to get it.

Not that she minded John's attentions. On the contrary, he made passing the time in Jamaica a pleasant interlude, but Grace was growing very tired of waiting. Even through the pouring rain, she could hear the constant whisper of the sea calling her back.

John came up behind her and gently drew her hair over her shoulder to expose the back of her neck. He trailed soft kisses down her neck and onto her shoulder. Grace sighed at the sensual pleasure of it. He reached around and cupped a breast in his palm, and she settled back easily into his embrace.

John began to slip the night dress from her shoulders when a knock came upon the door. They answered it with nothing but silence.

When his knock went unanswered, a muffled voice called from the other side of the door, “A message for you, sir.”

“I told you that I was not to be disturbed for any reason,” John growled back at the door.

“It's an urgent message, sir,” the plaintive voice explained.

“Later, later,” John dismissed the voice.

A sudden tremendous thudding blow was delivered to the door and the jamb splintered. The door swung crazily from the frame to reveal a swarthy pirate holding Stapleton's manservant by the throat.

“He told you it was urgent,” the cutthroat explained, tossing the man into the room.

“What is the meaning of this?” Stapleton responded angrily, stepping between Lady Grace and the pirate.

“Would you like to tell him or should I, Grace?” answered the pirate.

Enraged, Grace shoved Stapleton out of the way and came toe to toe with the pirate.

“Liam O'Shea, what the bloody hell are you doing? You're ruining everything!” she seethed.

“Me? What about you? Your ship is sailing about without her captain while you're here bedding some pasty fop.”

“Pasty fop?” Stapleton protested.

“Oh, shut up,” they both retorted and then glared at one another.

“Lest you forget, Captain O'Malley, this scheme was your idea. ‘Help me, Liam. It's in your own best interest, Liam’,” he mocked. “Are you even aware that for the last fortnight, Pippa . . .”

“ . . . has been sending some extremely interesting information from the
Ocean’s Whore
?” Grace finished the thought for him. “Of course I know Lizzie has picked a new target. Why do you think I'm spending time in the bedchambers of a fancy pants British civil servant?”

“Grace, what's going on?” Stapleton cautiously queried.

“Shut up, John,” she snapped. “Liam, if we can't get the British Navy to catch her in the act, this will all be for nothing. And thanks to Johnny here, I happen to know that the Commodore of the Navy in the West Indies was due to arrive here in Port Royal yesterday. I'm sure the storms have delayed his arrival, but now you've managed to ruin my introduction to him,” she growled at Liam.

“I'm not the one who decided to stay in port to play dress-up, Grace. You haven't bothered to send word of any kind for weeks,” Liam growled back and grabbed her by the wrist.

“If I hadn't been making regular contact with our network, O'Shea, then how would I know that the captain of the merchantman
Hercules
had enough of the Jamaican Governor holding up his ship for port fees. They sailed for Charleston early without escort. Just how would I know that without making contact,” she said as she tried to pull free of his grip.

“You're sure the
Hercules
has sailed?”

“As sure as I will slit your throat in your sleep if you don't let me go, O'Shea.”

He relaxed his grip and let go of her hand.

“Thanks to your damned pigheadedness, Captain Shireland will have her prize uncontested again.”

“Grace, are you two saying that you know for a fact that Captain Elizabeth Shireland is planning an act of piracy in violation of her agreement with the Governor's pardon?” Stapleton dared to ask.

“Did you fools ever think she'd really abide by any such agreement?” she sneered at the Governor's Secretary.

“I must make a report of this at once,” Stapleton said as he grabbed a pair of breeches and bolted for the door.

In a flash Liam pulled his pistol and trained it on Stapleton's head.

“That won't be necessary, O'Shea. If Johnny knows what's good for him, he'll make that report without mentioning exactly where he got such information. Right, John?” Grace leveled her eyes in an unnerving stare.

“But of course, milady. No one would believe that the Lady Whitmore was actually the notorious Captain O'Malley, anyway.”

“It's just that kind of wisdom that will keep you alive long enough to be appointed governor yourself someday,” she smiled at him.

Stapleton ran from the room before terror could overtake him. The poor manservant scrabbled across the floor in his wake.

Liam chuckled once they were alone. “That worked out pretty well, I'd say,” he grinned to himself.

Like a viper striking, Grace slapped him across the jaw. “You foolish idiot, you very nearly ruined everything with that stunt,” she hissed and spat.

“If I had waited much longer, you would have had to take the pleasure of his bed again.”

“He was more adventuresome than most,” she muttered.

Liam grabbed her by the forearms and pulled her close. “The passion that burns deep inside you is too dangerous for most men to take. They would be consumed in the conflagration,” he breathed hotly against her ear.

“And you are not like most men?”

“You need someone who burns as fiercely as you do, Grace.” To prove his point, he burned a scorching kiss upon her mouth.

He trapped her body against his own, but as the kiss began to fade, she regained her senses. She forced her arms between them and with all the strength she could command, she shoved him away.

“Passion's fires, indeed,” she sneered. “I've been burned by you before, Liam O'Shea. You can be sure I won't be doing that again.” Her eyes were bright with deep anger and old pain.

In a moment of defeat, Liam dropped himself to the edge of the bed and held his face in his hands.

“Every time I'm in the same room with you, I burn. When you're gone, I ache. You are nothing but constant torment to me,” he murmured, almost moaned. His voice was barely audible in the quiet room. “Please, Grace, end my misery.”

Somehow he had managed to soften some of the scars he'd left on her heart. She took two steps forward to reach him where he sat. She ran her fingers through his thick hair and planted a kiss upon his head. He dropped his hands and caressed her bare ankles. A sigh crossed her lips as she wrapped him in her arms and cradled his head against her heart.

Her heartbeat gently pulsed in his ear and her womanly scent filled his nostrils, and he began to caress her bare feet and work his hands up her legs. Without much thought, she began to rub the back of his neck. As his warm hands reached the back of her bare thighs, she cupped his jaw and tilted his face up to hers. His eyes were soft, but beginning to darken with the wildness that resided within.

Her eyes closed as his mouth drew nearer to hers. The warmth of his mouth burned hers like a shot of the finest rum. The kiss ignited the inferno within both of them. He grasped the roundness of her bottom in each hand and pulled her closer. Her head dropped back as he began to kiss and bite her brests.

A sweet throaty moan escaped from her. Liam released his grip and tugged the nightdress off over her head. She took a step back to escape the gown and stood naked before him, wrapped in nothing but the light streaming in from the window.

Burning for the full touch of her flesh against his own, Liam tugged off his shirt and breeches. His cutlass fell clanging to the floor. He pulled Grace down onto the bed with him.

“So help me, Grace, but I need to claim you for myself or wither away without ye,” he whispered hoarsely to her as he kissed, petted, and wrapped himself around her.

She felt her own need for the kind of fulfillment he could give her, but she still lacked the courage to seek it for herself. Rather than say anything at all, she entwined herself in him and welcome his kisses with her own.

For a few moments they tumbled about on the bed together, touching and exploring. When he landed astride her thighs, both willingly crossed the point of no return.

Grace opened her legs and tilted her pelvis up to meet him. Liam's member slipped easily in to her warm wet depths. She drew in a ragged sigh as he pushed ever deeper. He filled her so well and completely, like he had been molded just for her. The press of his hips against hers was sheer bliss.

Then Liam began the first slow pull out of her, causing a delicious friction as cool air rushed into the widening gap between them. Grace's eyes widened as she gasped at the change in sensation. Each stroke thereafter built in speed and intensity, from long slow strokes to a desperate pounding rhythm.

Grace moaned and panted and sighed as Liam tuned his body to hers. In a rapturous crescendo she called his name in ecstasy. In that moment they had claimed all that they were to each other and finally found completion.

As passion subsided, contentment took its place. Liam rolled to his back and wrapped Grace in his arms. Both slipped wordlessly into peaceful slumber.

Grace had no idea how much time had passed while she laid in Liam's arms, but came awake dreamily, still enveloped in Liam’s warmth. She drew a deep sleepy sigh and was about to open her eyes, when a lightning bolt of pain shot through her head and drove her mind back into darkness.