Heather Graham - [Camerons Saga - North American Woman 02] by A Pirates Pleasure Page A

and the opera and the elegance of court. In London there were rakes and rogues, of course, but they were of the civil kind, and a lady could not fall from virtue unless it was her choice. In London, there were no pirates!
    She had loved her home in Williamsburg before she had left it. She had loved the beautiful streets, so carefully laid out when it had been determined to move the capital of the Virginia Colony from Jamestown to the place that they had previously called Middle Plantation. She had loved the College of William and Mary, and the capitol building they had built. The homes were clean and bright with white picket fences, and sometimes it seemed a raw place, and sometimes it seemed incredibly exciting to watch it grow. When she had been a child they had begun the grand mansion for the governor,and now, so father had written, Governor Spotswood was moving in. At one time, it had been so beautiful to her.…
    But now she was being forced to return home to marry a stranger who lived out in one of the godforsaken plantations.
    No. She was a pirate’s captive. A plaything. And the pirate didn’t think that her fiancé would avenge her honor. Perhaps, the pirate had suggested, Lord Petroc Cameron would not even offer to pay a ransom.
    Her eyes fell upon a rosewood caddy, that she hadn’t noticed earlier, by the side of his desk. There was a decanter of brandy and four stemmed glasses there, held in place by brass racks. Skye quickly stumbled to her feet and filled a glass with the brandy. It was hot and it burned, and it was the most delicious drink she had ever tasted.
    She coughed and sputtered, and filled another glass.
    The light, the warmth, and the alcohol quickly restored her courage. She railed at herself for having been such an awful coward, but the moment was past now, and the damage done. She had to look to the future. Setting her glass down once again, she began to search through the desk. There had to be a weapon here, somewhere.
    There wasn’t. All she could find were ledgers and maps. Frustrated, she slammed the drawers.
    She paused for a moment. The ship was not swaying so violently anymore. The storm was breaking.
    He could come back at any moment.
    Inspired with renewed energy, Skye dove toward one of his handsome traveling trunks. She cast it open and came upon an array of stockings and breeches and vests and shirts and coats.
    They were in differing styles and fabrics, but they shared one common trait. All were in the color black.
    “Damn!” she swore softly, despairing that she could find some help for herself. Then she lifted the last of the shirts and discovered a blade at the bottom of the trunk.
    She gasped, for she had come upon a short broadsword, a two-foot weapon honed to a razor’s sharpness on both edges. She held it in her hands, dreaming of freedom. Then the blood drained from her face as she wondered how she would manage once she had slain the captain.
    His men would slice her to ribbons.
    She could capture him. She could hold him hostage and demand that his men bring them into the Chesapeake Bay, and down the James. Perhaps she could capture the entire ship.
    She sighed, shuddering. She would not capture the ship. But neither would this pirate, the Silver Hawk, ever touch her again and live to tell of it.
    There were footsteps beyond the door, coming very close to it. She froze for a moment, then they moved away. She heard laughter now. Voices rising over the sound of the wind.
    They had bested the storm.
    Skye hurried toward the bunk. Wrapping herself, she put the evil blade close within the coverlet, then scurried as close to the wall as she could. Her heart raced furiously. What should she do? If she feigned sleep, perhaps she could buy herself more time. He would have to be exhausted when he returned. He had battled the other pirates, he had battled her, and he had battled the storm.
    She heard footsteps again. And again, they paused before the double doors. She had just begun