A Pirate’s Price

I shall say it again! Charming men and dangerous beast, Tis good there are so few of them.. LONDON ENGLAND APRIL 1738 Wolves, as Raine Wallingham well knew, are savage beasts, little given to pity or honor. If one must face a wolf cleverly disguised in human form, it did no good to show fear. Rather, one must throw one’s shoulders back, lift one’s chin, and stare the damned beast down. At least that was what Raine told herself as she eyed “Charming” Danny O’Connor, the most notorious river pirate in London. As she watched, Mr. O’Connor did something far more alarming than any real wolf. He smiled at her. Raine swallowed. ” Danny O’Connor lounged like the pirate king he was on a gilded throne of red velvet at one end of a lavishly corrupt room. The walls were lined with sheets of gold, the floor was a fabulous mosaic of different colored marbles, and around her, piled high, were the spoils of thieving: trunks overflowing with furs and silks, crates of tea and spices, and treasures from every corner of the globe, all of it stolen from the merchant ships that came into London’s docks. Raine stood in the midst of this illicit opulence like a petitioner. Once again. Mr. O’Connor plucked a sweetmeat from a tray offered by a small boy, holding it between long, beringed fingers as he examined her. One corner of his wide, sensuous mouth curled in amusement. “ ’Tis always a pleasure to gaze upon yer sparklin’ hazel eyes, Mrs. Wellingham , but I do wonder why ye’ve come to see me this lovely afternoon.” His mocking words strengthened Raine’s spine. “You know very well why I’m here, Mr. O’Connor.” The pirate lifted elegantly winged black eyebrows. “Do I, now?” Beside her, Harry, one of Danny O’Connor’s guards and her escort into the throne room, shifted his weight nervously. Harry was a big man with a battered face—a man who’d obviously lived a rather rough life—yet he was just as obviously wary of Danny O’Connor. “Easy now,” he muttered to her beneath his breath. “Don’t want to get ’is temper up.” Mr. O’Connor popped the sweetmeat into his mouth and chewed, his black eyes closing for a moment in pleasure. He was a beautiful man. Raine could see that even if she found him quite repugnant herself. His eyelashes were thick and black, surrounding dark, liquid eyes, his complexion a smooth olive, and when he smiled… well! The dimples that were revealed on his cheeks made him look both as wicked as the devil and as innocent as a small boy. Had a Renaissance master wanted to paint all the seductive allure of Satan, he would’ve painted Danny O’Connor. Raine inhaled. Mr. O’Connor might well be as evil as Satan himself, but she’d braved him once before and survived—even if she hadn’t walked away entirely unscathed. “I’ve come for Anne.” The pirate’s eyes opened lazily as he swallowed his sweetmeat. “Who?” Oh, this was too much! Raine felt her face heat as she shook off Harry’s restraining arm and marched right up to the foot of the small dais on which the ridiculous throne stood. “You know very well who! Anne, that sweet little baby girl I’ve taken care of for over a year. Anne , who knows only me as her mother. Anne, who you took from the foundling home where we both live. Give her back to me at once!” So great was her ire that Raine found herself out of breath at the end of her little tirade and pointing her finger nearly in Mr. O’Connor’s face. For a moment she froze, her finger only inches from his nose. Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath. Danny O’Connor had lost his smile, and without that expression to lighten his face, he looked quite, quite frightening. Raine let her hand fall. Slowly, the pirate straightened from his chair, his long limbs uncurling gracefully like a predator. He stood, his polished black jackboots thunking to the floor, and stepped down from the dais. Raine could’ve backed up, but that would’ve shown fear. And besides, she thought she might’ve become rooted to the spot. The scent of lemons and frankincense drifted in the air. She lifted her chin in defiance as Danny O’Connor’s smooth, tanned, bare chest nearly touched her nose—the man was so vain he left his extravagantly ruffled shirt unlaced—and looked him in the eye. Mr. O’Connor bent, his mouth lightly touching her ear, and murmured, “Well, and why didn’t ye say so in the first place, darlin’?” And while Raine gaped up at him, he straightened, his gaze still locked with hers, and snapped his fingers. A door opened and Raine finally found the willpower to tear her gaze from those black, impenetrable eyes. And then she forgot all about Danny O’Connor. A servant girl had entered, and in her arms was the sweetest, most wonderful being in the whole world. “Mamoo!” Anne shrieked. She began a frantic bouncing in the servant girl’s arms. “Mamoo! Mamoo! Mamoo! Up!” Raine rushed to catch the toddler before she could completely squirm from the girl’s arms. “I have you. I have you, my love,” she murmured as Anne wrapped soft, pudgy arms about her neck and squeezed. Raine breathed in the scent of milk and baby, tears pricking her eyes. When she’d found the toddler gone—when she’d feared that she’d never see Anne again—her heart had seemed to shrivel into a tiny, frozen thing. “Mamoo,” Anne sighed, and unwrapped her arms to pat Raine’s cheeks. Raine ran her hands over Anne’s black curls, touching and squeezing and rubbing, making sure the little girl was as well as when she’d last seen her, half a day before. The previous six hours had been the most frightening of her life and she never wanted to repeat— “Ahem,” a masculine voice murmured nearby, and Raine suddenly remembered where she was. She clutched Anne to her breast and whirled to face the river pirate. “Thank you. It’s most… most kind of you to have given her back to me. I really can’t thank you enough.” Raine took a step backward, afraid to take her eyes from Charming Danny’s face. “I… I’ll just be leaving—” Mr. O’Connor smiled. “Oh, certainly, sweetheart, do as ye wish, but the little one will be a-stayin’ with me, I think.” Raine froze. “You have no right!” She said panic flooding her. The pirate lifted one inky eyebrow and reached out to finger Anne’s black curls. His tanned hand was large against her little head. “Oh, don’t I? She is me daughter.” he said “Bad!” Anne glared at Danny O’Connor, dark eyes meeting dark eyes, black curls framing a face that might’ve been a feminine miniature of Mr. O’Connor’s own. The resemblance was quite devastating.