The Ladys Pirate Read online

  He dashed out onto the porch and Hal could see in the bright moonlight the man was old. Feathers of white hair peering from under a pointed nightcap and his jumpy movements gave him the look of a stringy rooster. The image was reinforced by his smile which revealed as many teeth as you'd find in a rooster's head.

  "Bloody Hell!" The man stopped, his eyes wide with fright and directed to Hal. "A savage!"

  "Calm, Dudley. This is Mr. Merritt from America." The Countess lay her hand on the old man's arm. "We owe him a great debt. Would you show him to a guest room and make him comfortable?"

  Hal roused himself. "Many thanks, my lady, but I need to be on my way. My ship-"

  "Do you not wish your reward, Mr. Merritt? I haven't that kind of money here in the house. I will have to send for it tomorrow morning. Please accept my hospitality until it arrives."

  Hal hadn't considered he might have to wait for his money, but he couldn't sail without it or without committing a robbery, so he bowed to the lady and replied, "I would be most grateful for your hospitality, my lady."

  The Countess smiled then, a small, weak, almost didn't happen smile. Yet the change in her face for that brief moment had Hal wondering what other changes were to be discovered.

  In another moment, a gaggle of servants surrounded her, their devotion clear in their anticipation of her needs. Her wrap was taken, she was seated with a small glass of sherry and a maid peered at her wrist. Hal had been forgotten by her entourage, so he followed along in their wake.

  "Oh, my lady, this is a bad break it is. We need to call a surgeon."

  "No." The Countess took a sip of her wine. "Patsy set it. It will be fine."

  "Excuse me, my lady," Hal said, moving closer. The crowd around her parted as the Red Sea before Moses. "I learned something of folk remedies from my mother. Perhaps I can assist?"

  She made no reply, so Hal knelt down before her and examined her wrist. A dainty one it was. A huge lump marred one side. Setting a finger lightly against the lump, Hal felt his belly churn as his suspicion was confirmed.

  "This bone must be set." He rested on his heel, thinking what sort of pain-killing medication might be available.

  "Do it, then." The Countess drained her glass and pulled her sleeve up, paling as she made the movement.

  "Of course, but first, we must get you some laudanum or get you really drunk."

  "No, that will not be necessary." She held out her injured arm to him. "Do it, please, Mr. Merritt." One fine eyebrow flew up in inquiry. "It will be painful, will it not?"

  "Quite painful. I suggest-"

  "Dudley, you and Thomas hold me against the chair while Mr. Merritt-"

  "Elspeth, what is going on here?"

  An older woman with flowing white hair floated into the room. Hal caught his breath at her beauty, untouchable, ethereal.

  "My dear, what has happened?"

  "Mother," Elspeth whispered, as glad as any child to see her parent. "Richard-" She stopped her words abruptly, glancing around at all the ears listening. "I will explain later, Mother. Hello, Alex."

  March's brother, leaned down to the girl, brushing a kiss against the top of her head. "My dear, I'm so sorry about this."

  Elspeth waved him away. "Could we let Mr. Merritt take care of this and we'll talk in the morning?"

  The man, Alex March, stood and faced Hal.

  "Merritt?" Without turning away, he asked the Countess, "You trust this man?"

  Well, at least he didn't call me a savage. That's a positive sign.

  "Yes, I do. He's going to set my arm for me."

  "Hmmm. I suppose he will be strong enough." March turned to Elspeth again. "Let me get you some opium, dear. It will help greatly."

  "No. Just let him do it. But Alex," she added as she took his hand in her good one, "would you be able to help hold me so he can be quick?"

  He patted her hand. His affection for her was true and pure, if Hal could trust his judgment.

  The dowager Countess, until now silent as her husband took over, stepped forward and knelt down beside her daughter. Elspeth's face was white and beads of perspiration dotted her high forehead.

  "Proceed, Mr. Merritt," the older Countess said.

  Her eyes were clear, her voice was steady, yet he saw her hands tremble. She frowned as she turned her attention to them. They stopped as though by command.

  He smiled. He could see he had much to learn of the people his father, a Scot, had much maligned. Though he knew well, some Brits deserved their poor reputation. Such as the villain who had so injured this beautiful lady.

  "As you command, my lady." Hal took his place before the Countess as he spoke to the staff. "I'll need cold compresses, bandages, two pieces of wood, so big..." He motioned with his hands the size he would require for splints. What else? "And a large piece of cloth to tie her arm to her." Digging through his memory, he tried to remember what else he could do for her comfort. "Yes, and here," he said, pulling a leather sack from his belt. Emptying the contents, he picked out boneset and willow bark.

  "Where's the cook?" When that impressive woman stepped forward, he handed her the herbs. "Make two teas with these. Steep them for twenty minutes each. Then bring them to the Countess if she's able to drink them."

  These last words might have been better left unspoken, he thought, as he glimpsed the Countess swallowing and turning even whiter than he'd thought possible for a person still breathing. They waited for the items Hal had requested. Once they lay on the table beside him, and the cook had sent word the teas were almost ready, Hal faced the young Countess.

  "Are you ready, my lady?"

  "Proceed." Even in her pain and fear of more pain, she was in command.

  What a woman. His admiration grew as he took her delicate wrist in his own hands-hands he'd never thought of as huge until this moment when contrasted with her form-and she looked him straight in the eye and nodded crisply.

  "Take a deep breath." He took off his belt, handing it to her. "Put this between your teeth and bite down on it. It will help. If you wish to scream, do it."

  "Certainly, not," she whispered.

  His chuckle at her spunkiness escaped before he could stop it. He winked at her, earning for himself the slightest of smiles from her rosy lips, and bent to his work. He said a prayer to the Great Spirit to give him strength and to take her pain from her.

  * * * *

  Elspeth bit down on the belt. The feeling of something between her teeth was a great comfort and she blessed her savage for thinking of it.

  Her savage?

  But he was. In so many ways, from his sudden appearance to save her, to his offer of continued help, he was her knight in shining armor.

  A smile tipped the corner of her mouth.

  The smile smashed into a squeal. Then a scream. The noises of a dying animal. Noises coming from her throat.

  Then he knelt before her, seemingly unfazed by her outburst. Her mother, God bless her, laid her head against the arm of the chair and breathed quietly. Alex stumbled over to the liquor and poured himself a stiff port.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered as Mr. Merritt settled her arm on a linen-covered length of wood just the width of her arm, then another on top, wrapping both in more linen.

  "Sorry for what?" He didn't look up, but kept wrapping her arm, making it tight. She could feel it was stabilizing her arm, leaving it no room to move, actually relieving her pain somewhat.

  "I screamed."

  He laughed. "Ma'am, I broke my arm about a year ago. I wept like an infant and cursed hellfire onto anybody within earshot." He looked up, capturing her gaze. "You are the bravest person I've ever met." He bent back to his tending. "And I've met some fine, brave people in my time."

  His words soothed her pride. "Thank you. You have been my savior tonight."

  "No, ma'am. I was just handy. I believe you would have succeeded no matter what the odds."

  With no words to offer in response to that, Elspeth offered the only thing she co
uld. She smiled at him.

  Chapter Four

  Elspeth settled back in her bed, trying to get comfortable. Her wrist ached and her cheeks were tender from Richard's blows. But she was home, safe. Thanks to her savage.

  "Here you are, milady. The savage's tea for your pain." Cook huffed over to the bed, a tray in her hands.

  "Cook, you didn't have to bring this."

  "Pffaw. Who'll take care of my little Countess if I don't myself?"

  Cook set the tray on the bedside table and helped Elspeth sit up. She fluffed pillows and tucked Elspeth in, tender as a child. Plopping her substantial self onto the bed, she handed Elspeth her tea. "Now, drink up."

  "You missed your calling, Cook. You should have been a nursemaid."

  Cook laughed, her huge bosom bouncing. "Faith, milady, I've nursed ten o'me own and several from others. Enough nursing to my mind." She patted Elspeth's leg. "Drink up now. 'Tis good strong willow bark. Your savage knows what he's about, for certain he does."

  Elspeth squeezed her lips together, barely avoiding a spray of tea all over the good woman. "He isn't my savage, Cook."

  "Whatever you say, milady, but you did bring him home much like that speckled goose you found when you were only a tot." The huge bosom bounced again. "Faith, I had wished to be a portrait painter to capture the look on the good Countess's face when she saw it. 'Twas then I understood what set you nobles apart from us common folk."

  "What is that?"

  "If it had been my girl who brung a strange bird into my boudoir, I'd be tanning her hide with one hand and wringing the goose's neck for supper with the other. But not your mam."

  Elspeth laughed with Cook. The memory was a fond one. One of the few fond memories she had from the time when her father still lived. That only because he had been abroad at the time.

  "I believe she said, 'Elspeth, dear, remove your pet immediately. Animals are for the barnyard.'"

  "Ah, that old saw," the gentle feminine voice from the door had Elspeth smiling and Cook jumping up from her seat on the edge of the bed.

  "Beg pardon, milady-"

  "Nonsense, Cook. Thank you for bringing the tea for the Countess." Elspeth's mother rode into the room on sails of white silk. "Are you comfortable, dear?"

  "Yes, thank you, Mother." She drained the tea and grimaced at the bitterness. "That had better make me feel better or I'll have a word to say to Mr. Merritt."

  Cook smiled as she took the empty cup. "''Twill indeed, milady. Good night."

  After Cook closed the door behind her, Adelpha sat on the edge of the bed and placed her hand over Elspeth's.

  "Tell me, now. What happened?"

  "Didn't Richard tell you?" Elspeth asked, knowing that even though he had been here, he wouldn't have had the nerve to reveal his cruelty.

  "Only that you had run away. Of course, he didn't deign to speak to me. That is what he told Alex."

  "Is that all he told Alex? Didn't he tell Alex how he broke down the door to my room, raged in like a madman, threw me to the floor and proceeded to use me as a whore?"

  "Elspeth, don't use such language." Even in reprimand, her mother's voice was gentle.

  "I'm sorry, Mother, but I cannot make it pretty. And I've lived with his abuse for as long as I will."

  "My dear, I am so sorry. I did not know he was..."

  "Like Father?"

  Adelpha turned away, hiding her expression. She never let anyone, even Elspeth, know what she had endured at the hands of the late Earl. But Elspeth had grown up hearing her father's voice raised in anger, seeing bruises on her mother's face that even thick applications of rice powder couldn't hide. She'd seen her mother's eyes swollen shut and blackened, heard her pleas for mercy. She'd even experienced her father's fist herself.

  No more, she vowed.

  "I don't suppose Richard will allow the matter to be handled quietly." Her mother sighed. "Alex will go for a solicitor tomorrow. Perhaps we should bring up our man in London for something so, well, so scandalous."

  Elspeth felt her face flush hot. Then a more troublesome thought made itself known.

  "What do you suppose Drina will make of this? It's likely to put her into a very bad position, herself so newly married."

  Her mother shrugged. "Her Majesty loves you as a sister. She will support you. Have no fear of that." Patting Elspeth's hand, Adelpha added, "We will weather this storm as we have so many others together. Sweet dreams, my darling." Adelpha rose and floated out of the room.

  Elspeth settled back in the softness of her bed, cocooned in peace. Richard wouldn't be coming tonight. She could sleep without fear for the first time since the beautiful wedding in York Cathedral, where she was envied, admired, fussed over. The contrast between the wedding and her wedding night still had the power to send chills racing down her spine.

  "He isn't here. He won't be here." Elspeth chanted the words as a litany against fear.

  "Milady, did you call?" Patsy stuck her head through the doorway of the adjoining maid's quarters. Her eyelids drooped and dark circles marked the sleepless nights she had spent on behalf of her mistress.

  "No, Patsy. Go to bed and sleep the sleep of angels."

  Patsy smiled. "Thank you, milady. I wish the same for you. Or perhaps better, dreams of dark-eyed savages."

  "Patsy!" Elspeth felt her blush deepen. "You are naughty."

  "I suppose, milady. Good night."

  Patsy withdrew with a grin and the door clicked softly behind her.

  Elspeth chuckled at her maid's amorous thoughts. Dream of Henry Morgan Francis Merritt, indeed. He wasn't even a handsome man. She chuckled. Named for a pirate. She wondered if there were other little boys running around his tribe named Blackbeard and Bartholomew Roberts.

  How odd life is, she thought. He comes to kill me, then becomes my champion.

  How odd, she thought, falling asleep dreaming of black eyes and strong hands.

  ***

  Dudley the butler led Hal to an immaculate room on the second floor. Candles lit the interior and a fire burned in welcome.

  "Cook says the Countess drank both her teas, though she didn't much like them."

  "I don't blame her. They taste terrible."

  "Med'sin usually does, sir."

  Hal wondered when he'd gone from "savage" to "sir."

  "If you need anything, pull the bell. A bath is being drawn for you." Dudley shuffled over to open a door on the side wall. Hal peered around the doorjamb. "Here are fresh night clothes for you, and we will bring you clothing in the morning. Findley will be your valet while you are with us."

  A tall, pale cadaver of a man glanced up from testing the bath water.

  "Sir."

  "Findley?" Hal asked.

  Findley nodded, his face giving no sign of his thoughts as he gazed at his new charge standing before him, peeking around the door, long hair wild around his head.

  Hal chuckled for him as Findley seemed to have no sense of humor himself.

  "When you are prepared, sir." Findley stood beside the tub, straight as a war lance.

  "Thank you, Findley," Hal said, striding into the room and giving himself over into Findley's tender care with as little concern as though he'd been undressed by valets all his life.

  A valet? Well, things were looking up. Too bad the luscious Countess was already wed. Hal believed he might be able to get used to this treatment.

  "If you require nothing more of me, sir?" Dudley asked.

  "No, thank you, Dudley."

  Dudley bowed as far as his stiff bones would allow and backed out of the room as Hal's breeches hit the floor.

  Gone to tell the downstairs staff about the wild Indian the Countess had brought home, no doubt.

  Hal sank back into the hot water and let the aches of the last day and night's adventure soak from his muscles, and as his eyelids slid shut, he smiled thinking of an autumn-haired Countess with jade eyes.

  Chapter Five

  Elspeth sat at breakfast, absently stirring
her chocolate while reading papers left for her by her steward. A sound at the doorway roused her attention. Her heartbeat tripped at the sight she encountered when she raised her gaze.

  Mr. Merritt stood there, his wild Indian attire replaced by a white lawn shirt, vest, and black trousers, the conventional clothing of an English gentleman. The effect was astounding.

  Startling.

  Arousing.

  "Good morning, milady."

  "Good morning, Mr. Merritt." Elspeth cleared her throat. "Did you sleep well?"

  He smiled. "Quite well, thank you. How does your wrist feel this morning?" he asked with all the cool solicitude of a surgeon.

  "Tolerable. It pains me, but not unbearably so."

  He walked the length of the dining room to stand beside her. "May I?" he asked, motioning to her bandaged hand.

  "Certainly."

  She assured herself there was nothing unseemly about a perfect stranger touching her hand, particularly as this man was the one who probably saved her from deformity and further pain.

  Her gaze moved up to his face and for the first time, she allowed herself to study his features more closely.

  Ebony black eyes... No, she realized, they were brown-though so dark as to be easily seen as black-set deep under a high wide brow, framed underneath by high cheekbones. His long silky black hair lay tamed by a leather thong at the back of his neck. Without the dappled paint of last night, she could see his complexion was tanned, as no English gentleman's would be. He was a man of the outdoors. She realized she'd been right last night when she'd decided she didn't find him handsome in the way she was accustomed to understanding the term, but acknowledged his own exotic beauty.

  He checked her fingers, his own blunt ones raising hers slightly. "Are you able to move your fingers?" She flexed her fingers. "Good. Now each one separately." Again she obeyed. "It appears your injury hasn't affected your movement. You should heal completely."

  He released her hand. Elspeth had to stop herself from reaching for him again.

  This would not do. She had to remember she was a married woman. Unhappily perhaps, temporarily surely, but married nonetheless. Her duties as a hostess gave her direction and purpose and she put them to use.