A

Pirate’s
Revenge
By
Brandy Golden
Featuring the Artwork of
Kenneth Manago
 A
Pirate’s
Revenge
By
Brandy Golden
Featuring the Artwork of
Kenneth Manago
A Newsite Web Services Book
Published by arrangement with the author
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2008 © by Brandy Golden
This book may not be reproduced in whole or part,
by mimeograph or any other means, without
permission of the author or Newsite Web Services,
LLC
Published by Newsite Web Services, LLC
P.O. Box 1286, Loganville, Georgia 30052 USA
[email protected]
disciplineanddesire.com
 Dedication

This is dedicated to my good friend, Cyn, who

helped me with much of Kat's character. I'd also like
to mention AJ, whose information and ideas
regarding the pirate era helped with the formation
of the book. Both of them have excellent writing
skills and contributed to some of the dialogue
used. It's been a lively and fast paced book that
has been a joy to write and I thank them for helping
me. I'd also like to thank Josh, my publisher at the
time the book was written and his good friend,
Kenneth Manago, whose awesome artwork is
contained within the book. They both worked hard
to create the story in pictures that have truly
enhanced the work. And last but not least, thanks
to Reesa, my current publisher, who has put so
much time and effort into getting this ready for
publication. It has been no small task! Now, on to
the good stuff!

Brandy Golden
 Chapter One
The Caribbean Sea, 1700’s

The sun was peeking over the horizon, bringing

the dawn of a new day to the beauty of the
Caribbean Sea. The men stood frozen like a
macabre tableau on the deck of the Aphrodite, the
captive man’s face painted in a snarl as he eyed his
captors. They awaited the arrival of the ship’s
captain…a woman.
A woman he would sooner die than serve under!
After all, had he known this Captain Frank, as he
had sworn allegiance too when the Bounty went
under, was a woman, he would have gone down
with the ship!
Pierre stood at the open door of the Captain’s
cabin, his dark eyes watching as she buckled her
sword around her slender waist.
“We’re ready, Frankie,” he said quietly.
Captain Frankie nodded to Pierre, her hand on
her rapier as she preceded him out the door.
Reaching the deck, she saw them.
Her men were gathered round a swarthy rogue
with a knife slash down the side of his face. His
eyes narrowed as he watched her approach, his fists
clinched at his sides.
Frankie was silent as she returned his stare, her
dark hair blowing away from her face, her eyes
noting the weak chin and the stubble that didn’t
appear to be able to grow anymore, yet still
pretending to be a beard.
“I’ll not serve under a woman,” he snapped, his
spittle landing between her feet. His sharp black
eyes faced her defiantly, giving no quarter.
She stared coldly at him until he began to fidget.
“You’ll serve, or you’ll be shark food,” she finally bit
out.
1
 She heard rustling and murmuring among some
of her less loyal crew and knew she could not afford
to show any weakness. The majority of them were
her father’s men, and were rock solid behind her,
but they picked up strays now and then who swore
allegiance to keep their throats from being cut and
then reneged or tried to create a mutiny. Such was
the man in front of her.
“Ye wouldn’t put me off,” he sneered, his black
eyes saying it all. Saying he didn’t think a woman
could do it.
“Watch me.”
She nodded then, and Pierre moved forward, his
cutlass prodding the man in the chest as he herded
him towards the plank.
The pirate shuffled backwards, a leer on his
face, his disbelief still clearly evident. At the end of
the plank, he stopped to stare her down once again.
“Can’t do yourself can ye, bitch?” he sneered.
“Yer’re just a common whore who ain’t got the guts
to send a man to his death.”
Frankie’s temper flared inside her, but she gave
no reaction to his words on the outside. He was a
common pirate, brazen and bold, but he would
scream for mercy at the last minute…just like they
all did.
Her lip curled…she strode forward. She would
give him mercy, the same kind that had been
shown her father…and her gentle mother! She
placed the tip of her rapier on his chest and pressed
slowly.
The pirate’s face began to show fear then, and
he glanced down at the surging waters below him.
He didn’t see any sharks, but they were always
there. Just waiting to sink their teeth into a man. A
bead of perspiration broke out on his upper lip, but

2
he refused to give quarter to a woman. Death was
preferable.
“Ye’ll have to do better than that,” he sneered
feeling the tip of her rapier beginning to pierce his
skin. Better to die at sword tip than be torn to
pieces and still be half alive, watching those teeth
coming at you again.
Suddenly, Frankie lowered her sword and
planted a booted foot in the middle of his chest,
kicking him backwards into the sea. She wouldn’t
give him the satisfaction of impaling himself on her
sword and affording himself even the tiniest of
victories.
Even so, the pirate could not stop a gurgled
scream from escaping his lips as he went down
beneath the water and then struggled furiously to
the top. She was looking down at him, the she -
devil, laughing at him!
“If you can swim, you might make it to the
island before they catch up with you,” she laughed,
pointing to the east.
He looked and saw a pair of dorsal fins about a
hundred yards off, heading in his direction. With a
muttered oath, he began swimming as if his life
depended on it, which indeed it did!
Frankie turned and strode back onto the deck.
“Anyone else not want to crew the Aphrodite?”
she asked mockingly. No one answered. She turned
towards her cabin, Pierre falling in step with her.
“One of the men says he heard LaSalle was
headed for The Pirates Hideaway, Frankie,”
murmured Pierre in her ear.
“The Pirates Hideaway?”
“Yes, it’s a new harbor for pirates; been taken
over by Macalister.”

3
 “You mean Morg Macalister?” she asked, her
eyes narrowing as she stared at her Uncle and
second in command.
“The same.”
Frankie paused, considering the information
Pierre had just given her. Macalister was a ruthless
pirate who had slashed a reputation for himself that
was as fierce as Captain Morgan’s. But nothing
would deter her in her revenge on Jacques LaSalle.
Nothing! She nodded briefly. “Set sail for The
Pirates Hideaway then, Pierre. How long will it take
to get there?”
“About three days, I calculate,” he replied.
“Well, set course, then. I’m going to talk to Kat.
My twin sister needs to know this latest
development.”
Pierre Matis Fontaine watched his niece walk
away, her stride bold and assured. He shook his
head. He feared the girl’s desire for revenge would
bring about all their deaths one day.
He walked to the wheel of the huge ship, giving
the command as she had requested.
“Weigh anchor for The Pirates Hideaway!”
Below, Frankie let herself into the cabin. “Hello,
Kat,” she murmured, watching her beautiful sister in
front of the mirror. “We have things to discuss.”
“Feeding the fishes again, Frankie?” Kat
mocked, returning her sister’s brooding gaze in the
mirror. The girls were twins, but they looked
nothing alike. The only thing alike about them was
their temperament; both were feisty and high-
spirited.
Frankie gave the red haired sprite a dark look.
Her own raven hair fell to her waist in waves when
she wore it loose, and her blue green eyes were
hard and glittering. “He didn’t want to do his job;
what else was I supposed to do?” She shrugged her
4
slender shoulders then snagged a chair with a
booted foot. Sitting in it, she leaned back and
appraised Kat.
Kat turned sinuously, the dark pants and white
silk shirt outlining her slender figure to perfection.
Inside each boot, she had a pearl handled knife, her
expertise. Katherine Adele Fontaine was as beautiful
as her exquisite sister, Francesca Louise…Frankie to
those close to her.
“Why didn’t you just run him through with your
sword?” Kat’s green almond eyes gave her an exotic
look as she asked a question she already knew the
answer to.
Frankie’s smile was mocking. “You know I won’t
do that if I don’t have to. I like to at least give them
a fair chance to live…sometimes.” She thought of
the man swimming for his life because he wouldn’t
work for her. In a way, he was right. She didn’t
have the stomach for this life, but the thought of
their mother drove her on.
“So what did you want to talk to me about?” Kat
asked, not in the mood to really taunt her sister.
She leaned against the wooden dresser, her pert
bottom resting on the edge.
“We have word of LaSalle’s whereabouts. Seems
he is headed for the new harbor, the Pirates
Hideaway.”
“Is the information reliable? You know I’m sick
of chasing him all over the Caribbean!” Kat tossed
back her red tresses and yawned, not quite awake
yet like her sister.
“Pierre assures me it is reliable…well…as reliable
as you can get. I’ve already given the order to set
sail.”
“How long?”
“Three days.”
Kat sighed and nodded. “Three days it is then.”
5
6
 Frankie nodded and stood up. “I’ll meet you in
the practice room.” She let herself out of the cabin.
As she made her way to the room where Pierre
instructed them in the art of handling weapons, she
thought once again of her gentle mother. Attacked
by pirates…her mother taken…her father killed. Her
mother’s face still haunted her dreams.
Shaking away the image, she once again vowed
revenge on Jacques LaSalle! The master of the
black ship, the one that had attacked their father’s
French merchant vessel on its way home to
Louisiana in the New World…was a scoundrel. They
said his heart was as black as the ship he captained,
but Frankie didn’t care. She would have her
revenge, and if her mother was still alive, she would
find her!
______________

The Nemesis slipped silently through the shroud

of night, coming upon the peaceful entry to The
Pirates Hideaway. LaSalle kept watch through the
spyglass as his first mate Frenchy guided the black
ship slowly closer. He was a careful man; it was
part of why he had such a fearsome reputation.
The Nemesis struck fear in hearts, and people
whispered tales of the black ship that flew the
pirate’s flag; even her sails were black.
Some said it was revenge that drove LaSalle,
revenge for the death of his young wife and the
confiscation of his lands and properties by the
French crown. Some said it was a black heart in
league with the devil, but all respected his prowess,
pirate and merchant alike.
“Frenchy, look at this,” said LaSalle, handing the
spyglass to the burly man beside him.

7
 “That be Calico Jack’s flags,” Frenchy answered
with a feral growl. “That lowdown back stabber has
no honor, not even among pirates.”
“Agreed,” LaSalle replied smoothly, “but this is
the Pirates Hideaway isn’t it?”
“Oui, Capitan,” responded Frenchy. “Bosun
Graves is never wrong in reading the charts and the
waves.”
“Something is afoot, then,” growled LaSalle. The
hairs were standing up on the back of his neck; a
sure sign that trouble was brewing. That, and gut
instinct had saved his life more than once.
“Aye, my stomach feels colder than a wench’s
rump in winter,” replied Frenchy, uneasily.
“We’ll lay low here for a bit and keep an eye on
things. I wouldn’t trust Calico Jack, and the fact that
he has three ships in harbor doesn’t bode well for
this Macalister.”
“Macalister has made quite a reputation for
himself, Mon Capitan,” Frenchy mocked, knowing
LaSalle already knew that. “Pretty soon, he will rival
even yours and Blackbeard’s.”
“He already does,” muttered LaSalle grudgingly,
peering through the spyglass again. “Double the
watch. Get someone in the crows nest, and I want
constant surveillance of the situation until dawn.”
He handed the glass to Frenchy. “Take charge of
this thing and keep me informed. I want to know
the second anything happens, anything at all.
“Oui, Capitan,” murmured Frenchy, and he set
about following orders as LaSalle strode off, bent on
another task.
______________

It was getting dusky, and Mathias Morgan

Macalister stood on the balcony of his island home
surveying the peaceful waters of the cove through
8
his spyglass. He sniffed the gentle wind, trying to
gage the source of his uneasiness.
Calico Jack’s three ships lay in his harbor
alongside his own ships, and he was well aware of
the pirate’s reputation. He fully expected a takeover
attempt before dawn, and he had his men in place
and a surprise for old Jack, should he be so foolish.
Morg growled low in his throat. No one took
what belonged to him, be it a woman, lands or gold!
But there was something else going on…something
he couldn’t quite place…. something ready to
happen.
Morg’s gut instincts had saved his life on more
than one occasion, and he knew something was
coming to the Hideaway, but just what it was, he
didn’t know.
He put down his spyglass as he heard the soft
footfalls behind him. He turned to face her, his
startling green eyes piercing her slender frame, and
she shivered.
Rosalie watched the big man carefully; his
blonde hair tied at the back of his neck with a black
ribbon was intriguing. He had a bandana round his
forehead and a dark mustache that didn’t match the
sun-bleached blonde of his hair. His strong angular
jaw was set in a foreboding manner, and she feared
him.
“I’m ready, master,” the young woman said, her
fear showing in her lovely brown eyes, soft as a
doe’s. She trembled as Morg’s ruthless gaze raked
up and down her figure in the loose cotton gown.
Rosalie fidgeted, hoping he would get to her
punishment so it could be over with as soon as
possible. She didn’t know what he was going to do,
but she was very apprehensive.
Morg’s lips thinned into an almost cruel smile.
The young lass had been brought before him today,
9
caught by his man and first mate, Nigor. The big
black man had brought the frightened girl before
him, saying they had finally caught the thief who
had been stealing from their supply house.
When she had pled for mercy, Morg’s soft inner
core had been touched. The sixteen-year-old girl
reminded him of his younger sister that he had left
in Scotland so long ago. Her shiny brown hair hung
to her shoulders, and she had tucked it nervously
behind her ears, her movements so similar to young
Eileen.
Morg had finally indentured her as his servant
and took her to his home, ordering her to clean up
and report to his chambers at dusk for punishment
for her thievery.
“Well done, Rosalie,” he said gruffly. “I see ye
know how to obey orders…ye will make a fine
servant for my manor house.”
“T…thank you, sir,” stammered Rosalie. She
dropped a curtsey and bowed her head.
“Now, then, your punishment,” he said briskly.
Taking her by the arm, he walked her over to a
straight-backed rattan chair and sat down. He
began to pull Rosalie across his platform of broad
hard thighs enclosed in white cotton material,
bulging at the seams from the muscles in the long
legs.
“W…what are you doing, Master?” gasped
Rosalie, not understanding what was happening.
She resisted him, pulling backwards desperately
even though she knew her slender strength was no
match for the powerful man.
Morg stopped and pinned her in an icy look. “Do
ye know what the traditional punishment is for
thievery, my girl?”
“N…no,” squeaked Rosalie. She had never had to
steal anything in her life until the pirates had
10
invaded the island and destroyed her childhood
home. She had hidden in the woods until Nigor had
found her, taking bits of bread and nuts, hoping the
filthy lot wouldn’t notice! She didn’t dare voice her
opinion, though; she was far too shy and scared!
“They get a finger cut off for the first offense,”
Morg declared. He took her slender forefinger
between his own big fingers. “How about this one?
Would ye like me to cut it off for ye?”
“No…please,” begged Rosalie, trembling more
than ever. “Please don’t hurt me, Master!” She tried
to pull her finger away from him, but he held on.
“Then ye will obey me in all things…and right
now, ye are going over my lap to be spanked
instead of having this lovely finger cut off. Will ye
stop fighting me?” He could have forced her over
easily, but down inside, he had a small feeling of
protectiveness, and for some reason, he didn’t want
her to think him a total monster.
Rosalie’s brown eyes opened wide, but she
nodded, not exactly sure what he was talking about,
but relieved that her finger was safe. She didn’t
fight when he pulled her down and over his thighs
until he began to lift the loose cotton gown.
He had ordered she wear nothing beneath the
gown, and this had been the true source of her
nervousness. She knew little of the ways of men
and women and was afraid he wanted to use her for
his lust. The lifting of her gown seemed to confirm
this, and she began to struggle again.
Morg bared her easily despite her struggles…he
would have been surprised if she hadn’t fought him.
T’was only natural when a wench was about to get
her hide tanned that she fight, but he subdued her
easily, his huge arm blocking her hands as he
gripped her hip with his left hand and patted the
pale wiggling buttocks with his right.
11
12
 “All right, my girl, here it comes!” With that he
brought his palm down hard…so hard that Rosalie’s
body jerked, and her legs kicked straight out as she
squealed in surprise and pain. He chuckled. “Aye, it
hurts, little one, and there’s a lot more to come!
Ye’ll be sorry you stole from us before I’m through
with ye!”
Rosalie kicked and screamed as Morg smacked
her bouncing cheeks over and over, igniting fire and
pain like she had never known before! She cried
and begged and pleaded for him to stop, but he
ignored it all, continuing until the girl’s bottom and
thighs were a deep crimson red.
At last, he stopped and stood her up, then
grabbed her as her knees buckled, and she sobbed
hysterically.
Sitting back down, he fought with himself as he
sat her on his lap, allowing her bottom to fall
between his open thighs. “There now, lass, let that
be a lesson to ye, don’t ever steal!” His voice was
gruff, and he didn’t want to comfort her, but
couldn’t seem to help himself. He patted her
shoulder awkwardly as she hid her face in her
hands.
Rosalie paid no attention to Morg, other than to
use his knees for support when her legs had
buckled under her. She had never known such pain!
Her bottom ached and burned like it was on fire,
and she shook from head to toe. She sobbed
helplessly into her hands, finally becoming aware
that he was patting her back and talking to her.
“Ye’ll need to have Alyssa help you with some
cream on that arse,” he said gently. “Ye are going
to be sore for awhile, as well ye should! Now, get
along with ye and get ready for bed.” He stood up
then, gently pulling her to her feet and pointing her

13
towards the door. “And, if I have to punish ye
again, I’ll use a paddle!”
“Y…yes sir,” she sobbed. Rosalie flew to the door
on shaking legs. She knew what a paddle was, the
men of the native villages used them in their
canoes. She had no desire to have him beat her
backside with one of those. She would never steal
anything again…ever!
“Rosalie!” She stopped at the command in his
voice and turned to face him “Send Alyssa so me.
Ye women are NOT to leave the manor tonight, is
that clear?”
She bobbed her curtsey. “Yes, Master!” She
turned and went out, the tears still flowing down
her cheeks.
When Alyssa appeared in the doorway, Morg
gave her the same instructions. The lovely island
woman nodded, her crisp black curls bouncing. She
looked inquiringly at him; instinctively knowing
something was bothering him. If he wanted her to
know, he would tell her. If not, she would not
intrude.
“See to the young lass, Alyssa,” Morg added as
she approached, her brown legs flashing beneath
the island skirt. Morg’s eye’s gleamed as they
watched her glide smoothly across the floor.
Alyssa’s chocolate brown eyes met his with a
smile. They were old friends. “Going soft are you,
Morg?” Her rich island accent was a pleasure to his
ears.
“Would ye like a trip over my knee then?” Morg
returned pleasantly. He felt a hardening briefly at
the thought of her full ripe bottom beneath his palm
and the delights they enjoyed afterwards, but he
tamped the stray thoughts down.

14
15
 Alyssa was not fooled by his polite words, but
she laughed as she moved out of reach. “Not
tonight, I can tell there be other things on your
mind.” She grinned knowingly and fingered the
sharks tooth necklace as she watched him carefully.
She enjoyed their encounters, but expected nothing
from him. They were from different worlds, but met
as friends and, occasionally, lovers.
“I’m never too busy to tan your arse, Alyssa,”
Morg returned his eyes gleaming. “I have a new
paddle just waiting for ye.” He smiled when she
moved away.
“I’ll be passing on that offer, thank you,”
laughed Alyssa. She left, and Morg watched the
door shut, the uneasy feelings starting once again.
He strode to the balcony and took up the spyglass.
It was going to be a long night!
Sure enough, it was just after midnight when
Morg spotted the signal from Nigor. He was already
dressed in dark clothes, his sword attached and a
knife belted on his thigh.
Quickly, he shinnied down the trellis attached to
the wall for the morning glories and slipped into the
jungle undergrowth, headed for Calico Jacks biggest
ship, the Satin Lady.
Nigor met him at the water’s edge, and they slid
into the warm waters of the Caribbean Sea and
swam silently to the mooring ropes.
While his men engaged Jack’s men in town, he
and Nigor intended to hit Jack’s own personal ship.
Just as planned, the other men were already in
place in the shadows along the ships base, and on
his signal, they all began climbing the ropes. Once
there, it was a simple matter to take over the
greatly reduced crew Jack had left on board. A neck
broken here, a throat cut there, and he was
slamming open the door to the captain’s quarters.
16
 He stopped when he saw the woman. She was a
woman of obvious English descent, and she glared
at him with hatred in her eyes. She stood naked
before him, proud of her lack of fear even though
her ankle was manacled to the bed. Her body was
beautiful, her full proud breasts swaying as she
leaned forward and spat at him. “Filthy pirate!”
Jack’s woman, obviously, or at least one he
intended to have for himself. Morg strode forward
and grabbed the woman by her long blonde tresses
and ground his mouth into hers, tasting, drinking
from her full red lips.
At first, the woman beat at him with her fists,
but then she slowly surrendered and pulled him to
her urgently, the scent of her arousal reaching
Morg’s sensitive nostrils. Quickly, he freed his
throbbing member and drove her backward onto the
bunk, mindful of the chain she was attached to and
rammed his hard shaft home in one mighty thrust.
It was the ultimate humiliation, having your woman
taken by the enemy in your own sanctuary, and it
gave Morg satisfaction to do it. Not that he had to
take them…he had never taken a woman
unwillingly, there were too many willing.
The woman screamed in delight and beat her
fists on his back, her hips rocking and gyrating to
the motion he was creating until at last, he groaned
and sent her panting over the edge of her
surrender.
Suddenly, the door slammed open, and Calico
Jack roared with rage at the sight before him. The
burly pirate raged forward, his greasy ponytail of
black hair flipping behind his back. The black eye
patch and three-day beard growth added to the
roughness of his face, a face used to instilling fear.
Morg rolled off the woman and across the floor
as Jack slashed at him with his sword cursing in
17
frustration at his misses. Quick as lightning, Morg
rolled back and forth; avoiding Jacks useless jabs of
his sword until he saw his enemy freeze suddenly,
then collapse in slow motion, falling to the floor with
blood seeping down the corner of his mouth.
Morg looked up and saw the full-bodied woman
smiling, his sword in her strong grip. Quickly, she
dropped to the floor and fished through Jack’s
pockets, squealing in triumph when she came
across the key to her manacles. Keeping an eye on
Morg and the sword in one hand, she unlocked the
manacle and freed her ankle. “What is your name?”
she finally asked him.
Morg got to his feet, still breathing heavily. He
supposed the woman might have saved his life.
“Morg Macalister,” he answered cautiously. In his
business, you never knew from where an enemy
might spring.
“I have heard of you,” she sneered. “You are
another filthy pirate, just like that one.” She kicked
Jack’s lifeless body. “No, not quite like that one. You
did give me the best ride I’ve ever had, so I will let
you live, but get off my ship!”
“Would ye mind giving me my sword and using
Jacks?” queried Morg mildly, amused at her words.
“What is your name, lass?”
“Jack’s men are coming back,” hissed Nigor
urgently, sticking his head inside the cabin. “Time to
get out of here!”
“Those are my men,” crowed the woman. “That
useless Calico Jack caught me in a weak moment
and took over my ship, but the men will answer to
me!”
“You never did tell me your name,” insisted
Morg, catching his sword as she threw it to him.
“It’s Lola!” she said proudly. “Now get out of
here before I change my mind.”
18
 Morg saluted her briefly and grinned. “I’ve heard
of ye too, Lola…and ye called me a pirate!” Lola had
a reputation in her own right, although she called
herself a trader of goods. In short, she could be
hired for anything and at just about any price. He
chuckled and ducked out the door as she shrugged
and grinned. “Until we meet again, fair lassie!”
Standing on the dock, Morg signaled his own
men to let the Satin Lady go, and he watched as
Lola strode to the deck and waved goodbye, a
cheeky grin on her face.
Morg’s men had confiscated Jack’s other two
ships, and Lola acknowledged his prowess with a
wry salute as she sailed past him and out of the
harbor; her own loyal men on board, Jack’s most
pathetic supporters left behind for Macalister to deal
with.
Lola smiled wickedly. Her merchandise was safe.
Macalister must have missed it. There were rewards
to be had for the return of said merchandise, and
she intended to get them to England, provided she
didn’t get stopped again. That backstabber Calico
Jack had double-crossed her, but it wouldn’t happen
again. She watched as one of her crew hung his
head off the prow of the ship, her brown eyes
gleaming with satisfaction.
“Not a bad nights work, eh, Nigor?” Morg asked
as he downed his ale at the island pub. He too was
feeling satisfied…for the moment. The Nasty Grubb
was doing quite a business at 4:00am in the
morning, and the men were celebrating.
Morg had assigned a couple of his trusted
partners as captains of the ships they had taken
over, and Jack’s remaining crew had sworn loyalty
to Morg as the governor of the island and to their
ship captains.

19
 “Not bad at all, Captain,” grunted Nigor,
watching the goings on around him. He was ever
vigilant in spite of the control they had over the
island. Mutiny and treachery was always a
possibility.
Morg felt a chill run down his spine, and he
looked around him uneasily. The coup had been
thwarted, the manor was safe, and two ships had
been confiscated, why then did he still feel uneasy?
He swiped his mouth on his sleeve and walked
out the door of the pub and stood gazing into the
ocean horizon. What was out there that was on its
way here? There was something coming, he could
feel it in his bones, but what…. or who…was it?
Frankie’s shirt back was soaked with sweat and
so was the bandana across her forehead. She
swiped at the liquid trailing into her eyes, and for an
instant, was off guard. Kat quickly took advantage
and deftly relieved her sister of her rapier.
“Merde,” Frankie swore softly; her heaving
breasts straining at the white cotton tunic open in a
deep V. She took off the bandana and swiped at her
face, wiping the sweat from her forehead and
cheeks. Stalking across the room to the small table
where Pierre sat watching the girls, she spoke
quietly. “You know what to do.”

20
21
 Chapter Two

“You need more rest, Frankie,” he said, steel in

his voice. “You’ve been driving yourself too hard.”
Pierre watched her, concern in the liquid gold eyes
that complimented the white blondness of his hair,
giving him a leonine look. As a master of weapons,
Pierre was teaching the girls his craft and had been
since their father was killed and their mother
abducted almost five years ago.
“I let my guard down,” she returned, her eyes
icy. “I could be dead right now! “She quickly peeled
her men’s breeches down and bent over the table,
grasping the other side. “Just do it!”
Pierre sent Kat a troubled look, but Kat
shrugged helplessly. Sighing, he picked up the
heavy paddle from the table and moved behind
Frankie. He could see the deep creamy expanse of
her buttocks beneath the sheer knickers. It had
been awhile since she had been in this position, and
he felt it wasn’t deserved today, but he had
promised her he would follow through with her
request.
Frankie had instituted this particular discipline a
long time ago, when he first started training her. He
hadn’t missed once, yet today he did not wish to
comply. However, his wishes were not what were in
force here; Frankie’s were.
Reluctantly, he raised the paddle high and then
brought it down with a resounding thwack across
her right cheek. He could not bring himself to apply
as much force as he usually did, but it was still a
blow to be reckoned with.
Frankie grasped the edge of the table and hung
on. She gritted her teeth and waited for the first
blow. When it finally came, the shock of that first

22
23
spank was as excruciating as ever, and she choked
back a gasp and bit out a single word, “I!”
She tried to relax her buttocks, knowing the
second one was right behind it, and when it bit into
her left cheek, she grunted, “will!”
She braced herself for the third blow, and it
landed harshly across both cheeks at once, making
her gasp out, “kill!”
As each of the next three hot painful swats hit
her backside, Frankie ground out,
“you…Jacques…LaSalle!”
She slumped across the table, her bottom on
fire, and the ache going deep from the heavy board.
She panted, getting herself under control, her eyes
dry as she slowly pushed up from the table and
stiffly pulled her breeches back up. Without a word,
she walked proudly from the room, making her way
back to her cabin.
“I’m worried about her, Uncle Pierre,” whispered
Kat, placing a hand on his arm.
“I know, ma petite,” replied Pierre heavily. “She
is driving herself far too hard. She has a deep need
for revenge.”
“Do you think our mother is still alive, Pierre?”
Kat stared doubtfully at her Uncle.
Pierre studied his small charge. He had been
training the girls for almost five years, and they had
sailed the seas now for the better part of two of
those years, seeking the black ship that haunted
Frankie’s dreams. “I don’t know,” he said hesitantly.
“You know the possibility of that is remote.”
“We’ll soon be to the Hideaway,” she said
musingly. “I wonder what Frankie plans to do once
we get there. She can’t just take on the Nemesis,
although we do have it outgunned. The Aphrodite
has taken many a ship and protected the fleet well.
I just wish she had been there when all of you
24
sailed from France that time, Pierre. Maybe Father
and Mother would still be here.”
“Undoubtedly,” agreed Pierre. “Not many pirate
ships will take on a galleon. They usually hit the
merchant ships and run, leaving once the galleons
come after them. Still, I’m sure LaSalle will have
others who would come to his aid in the har bor. No,
direct confrontation is not an option, not unless we
catch him on the open seas. We shall have to
discuss it soon, though.”
Kat walked back to the cabin, her thoughts on
her sister. They had hit single pirate ships now and
then to seek news of the Nemesis, and just for
revenge for Frankie. They had a warehouse on
Tortuga where they stored the merchandise from
their spoils, but LaSalle was a hard man to find.
Kat took a deep breath and stepped inside the
cabin where Frankie was applying ointments to her
red bottom cheeks.
“I don’t know how you can allow Pierre to do
that, Frankie,” grimaced Kat in distaste. “I certainly
would never want to train that way.
“I got the idea from someone back home,”
replied Frankie, rubbing the cool ointments into the
burn. It was already subsiding. “Its not so bad, and
it’s a heck of a motivator, I have to admit. I’m not
sure I would be so skilled this soon were it not for
Pierre’s efforts.”
Her blue green eyes twinkled at her sister in
spite of her discomfort. She bent and slowly pulled
the breeches back up, holding her breath until they
had slid over her rounded backside and then heaved
a sigh of relief.
“We need to talk, soon,” Kat said uneasily. “We
need to make plans on what we are going to do
when we get there, we can’t fight in a harbor!”
“Maybe…maybe not.”
25
 “Well, have you thought about it?”
“I’m thinking, yes!” Frankie had no intention of
telling Kat exactly what she was thinking about,
however, and Kat could tell she was hiding
something from her.
Kat’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not thinking of
doing something wild and foolish are you? Because
if you are, you know that’s my job!”
Frankie grinned. She knew full well how
capricious Kat could be. She could take a sudden
whim and fly with it. You just never knew what she
might be up too at any given time. “I don’t have
anything concrete yet, just some ideas floating
around in my head, that’s all. When I come up with
something, I’ll let you know.”
“We only have two days left, Frankie.” She
threw her hands up in the air when Frankie ignored
her. Whirling on her heels, she turned and headed
for the door. “Mon Dieu, maybe Pierre can talk
some sense into you!”
By the time dinner was over that evening, Kat
was tired and worn out. Tired of plotting, tired of
revenge plans and the endless talk as the hours
dragged on. And, tired of all the constant training
and practice! It had really been getting to her,
lately. The days had turned into months and the
months into years.
Kat was bent on revenge too, but not nearly as
hell bent on it as her sister Frankie. She was
worried about Frankie, and she missed her. Missed
their long talks about men, poetry, music and
politics within the French court.
Frankie had become obsessed. Revenge on
Jacques LaSalle was all she talked about, thought
about, lived and breathed for. Kat prayed it
wouldn’t be what they ended up dying for.

26
 Kat still remembered the good things in life, but
not Frankie. Frankie seemed to have forgotten
anything else existed
Slipping quietly out of the cabin, the young girl
inhaled the fresh salt air. She did love these nights
on the Caribbean, the cool breezes, and the starlit
skies that seemed to stretch forever.
The moon was radiant in the heavens above, its
silver earthbound shafts causing her creamy skin to
glow. The emerald dress she wore clung just off her
silky shoulders and plunged into a V between her
ample breasts. Her long red gold hair brushed
against the top of her bare shoulders, and her green
eyes surveyed the darkened ocean as she
meandered, lost in thought along the deck of the
Aphrodite.
When Kat’s petite foot hit something hard, she
stumbled slightly and looked down. She spied the
bottle of rum only half empty and grinned. “Just
what I need right now, something to warm the
spirits,” she murmured quietly to herself. “It must
have rolled out of a hiding place.”
Picking the bottle up, she wiped the top off and
tipped her head back to down a long swig and
choked slightly…then smiled in satisfaction.
Standing on the deck, the young girl thought
about the man she had left behind when they
started this journey of revenge. She missed him
and prayed desperately that LaSalle would be at the
Pirates Hideaway, and this would all be over soon.
She wanted to go back to her old life, the one she
missed so desperately… at least what was left of her
life without her parents.
How she missed her gentle father! The long
evenings by the fire and the discussions they had
engaged in. She missed her lovely mother, but her
adored father had been her childhood hero.
27
 She took a few more long soulful drinks of the
intoxicating rum, and her gaze fell on the crow’s
nest high above her head. Perhaps a better view
would gain her a better perspective, she decided, a
bit tipsy.
Putting the bottle under her arm, she began to
climb the rigging, slowly and carefully making her
way to the top. Laughing giddily at herself, she
stopped to take another drink and drained the last
drop with relish; throwing the offending empty
bottle into the sea.
It was then that she heard it, the thundering
roar of Pierre. “Katherine Adele Fontaine! Get down
from there this instant!”
It startled Kat, and she jumped, her foot slipping
on the ropes. She suddenly found herself in the
very unfortunate position of dangling upside down.
She scrunched her tiny nose in disdain; she so
detested getting caught in an ignominious
predicament! This was not the norm for the
charming beauty, and she was just tipsy enough to
wonder how she was going to get out of this with
her usual grace and tact.
In the next moment, a strong arm from above
reached down, and in one fast swoop she found
herself being pulled up and into the crow’s nest.
Flashing her most winning smile she spoke sweetly,
“Why thank you, Gaston. You truly are a
gentlemen.”
Down below, Pierre was still having hysterics,
and she peered over the edge as he shouted up at
her.
“Kat! Mon Dieu! Get down here now and do so
with care, young lady!”

28
29
 His voice was unusually threatening, and Kat felt
a bit uneasy. Flashing her emerald eyes at Gaston
she asked, “I don’t suppose you could get rid of him
as easily as you pulled me up?”
Gaston’s liquid brown eyes narrowed before
yelling down to the anxious man below. “If she were
my charge, Pierre, I would teach her a lesson on
that tiny backside that she would not soon forget!”
Kat’s green eyes rolled in disgust as her
aristocratic nose scrunched up yet again. “That isn’t
quite what I had in mind, Gaston!”
Gaston’s cool gaze stared her down, and with a
simple jerk of his head, he conveyed his
expectations.
“Fine, fine, I’m going,” Kat grumbled quietly as
she lifted her skirt and began to climb down.
“The daughter of a Duke is expected to behave
with more sensibility and properness,” he said
sternly as he climbed down beside her to make sure
she got safely to the bottom.
Kat rolled her eyes again and mimicked him
under her breath.
Gaston’s lips tightened, but he didn’t say
anything else. As soon as she was down to a safe
distance from the deck, he quickly climbed back to
his high perch.
Kat felt Pierre reach out and take her small waist
in his strong hands as she neared the bottom. “Oh,
for heaven’s sake, Pierre, I’m fine,” she said
irritably. She tried to stomp away when she felt his
hard hand on her elbow, spinning her around to
face him.
“Not so fast, young lady, perhaps Gaston has
the right idea.”
“What?” Kat spat out. “Pierre, my sister may
have requested that you discipline her in that
fashion for her training, but that was her request,
30
not mine. I have never requested such punishment,
and I never will, nor will she for any other reasons.
Our father did not spank us, and we won’t allow you
to do so either, so don’t get any ideas!” Kat jerked
away from him and stormed towards their cabin.
She flung the door open, her emerald eyes
flashing, and Frankie looked up, startled. “What is
going on?”
“Pierre threatened to spank me, that’s what’s
going on,” raged Kat. “Probably because of that
stupid training program you are doing with him.
Honestly, Frankie, this is all getting to be too
much!”
Pierre appeared in the doorway, his face set in
an angry scowl. “Kat here decided to climb the
rigging in that dress and got her foot caught. If not
for Gaston, she would have fallen to her death! And,
she was drinking when she did it, I saw her throw
the rum bottle overboard.”
“Kat!” Frankie stared at her twin in
consternation. “What were you thinking?”
“I know what I’m thinking,” ground out Pierre.
“I’m thinking Gaston was right, and she needs her
backside attended too with a good paddling!”
“Uncle Pierre!” Frankie remonstrated. “You can’t
do that!”
Pierre folded his powerful arms and peered at
them from beneath his bushy blonde eyebrows. “I’m
beginning to think I’ve been remiss in you girls
training after all. Don’t try me again, or you will
both be in for an unpleasant surprise.”
He turned and strode out the doorway,
slamming the door behind him. Kat and Frankie
looked at each other and heaved a sigh of relief.
______________

31
 “One of Jack’s ships is leaving the harbor,
Capitan.” Frenchy was at LaSalle’s cabin door,
knocking softly.
A few minutes later, Jacques was staring
through the spyglass, watching the approach of the
Satin Lady. “Odd,” mused Jacques. “I would have
thought Calico Jack wouldn’t leave until he had
Macalister’s head.”
“Actually, it’s Jack’s head that’s been taken,”
laughed Frenchy. “It’s hanging off the prow of the
Satin Lady as we speak.”
Jacques focused the spyglass on the
approaching ships’ prow. Sure enough, there was
Calico Jack’s head hanging around the neck of the
mermaid on the point. Jacques roared with
laughter. “Send a hail across the bow. I want to
know how Macalister pulled this off.”
Thirty minutes later, the fiery Lola stood before
LaSalle, her beautiful eyes dancing. “So, the
gentlemen pirate wishes a conference with the
commander of the Satin Lady?” she asked
haughtily, her men standing at guard around her.
“If I may be so bold?” Jacques bowed gallantly
and offered Lola his arm. After a moment’s
hesitation, she stepped forward with a challenging
grin and put her hand on his forearm. Turning to
her men she stated boldly, “Wait for me. You all
have your orders.”
The men nodded their understanding.
“And what makes you think you can command a
bunch of brigands such as these,” asked Jacques,
amused at her orders. “Should I wish it, I could
have control of your ship at any time.”
The two were strolling along the deck of the
Nemesis, enjoying the early morning air. The men’s
eyes lusted after the fair Lola, wishing they were in
the captain’s shoes at that moment.
32
 “I’m aware of that,” replied Lola candidly.
“However, I’ve heard of your reputation. And, while
pirates are a scurvy lot for the most part, there is a
certain…respect that is accorded the successful is
there not?” She arched her brow quizzically at him.
“Oui, ma petite,” agreed Jacques good-
naturedly. “Spin me your tale, I would hear it.” His
heated gaze perused the creamy expanse of breast
that threatened to burst the bodice ties that lovingly
confined it, then traveled back to her face.
He roared with laughter once again as Lola told
her story then listened attentively when Frenchy
came up and whispered something in his ear.
Turning away from the woman, he spoke to Frenchy
in low tones. Frenchy hurried off. Then he turned
back to his lovely guest.
“Well, well, ma petite. It looks like you’ve been
holding out on me.” His voice had gone cold
suddenly, and Lola’s eyes narrowed. She refused to
be cowed, though, and she lifted her chin defiantly.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m talking about the hidden cargo on the Satin
Lady. Or were you not aware?” he asked silkily.
She flushed then, but gave no other indication
or acknowledgement of his words. “What are you
talking about?”
“Are you telling me you had no idea of the
women on board there?”
“Yes, I knew of it. So what? Jack had intended
them for the slave markets on Tortuga. I simply
intend to let them go when I reach England.” She
spat the words at him, knowing he wouldn’t believe
her if she denied knowledge of the women.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” he replied
smoothly, knowing full well she had no such
intentions. It was more likely she had hopes of
collecting reward monies for their return. “The Satin
33
Lady is even now being taken possession of by a
crew of my men.”
“Y…you can’t do that,” she hissed furiously.
“Oh, I can, and I have. You see, now that my
men know the women are there, they won’t rest
until we have them. With the help of one of your
trusted men, plus the fear of the Nemesis, I am
ensured an easy takeover. The only question that
remains is what to do with you?” He smiled
mockingly at her.
Lola held her head proudly; returning stare for
stare though her heart sank. She had
underestimated LaSalle. But she would not beg.
She knew some of her men were iffy at best.
Some of them were pirates, but most of the men on
the Satin Lady had been Englishmen loyal to her
and their country. She had lost her gamble that she
could bluff LaSalle, and he knew it.
“And they say you are a gentlemen,” she
sneered, her hand feeling for the knife beneath her
skirts. She would not allow herself to be used by
any man, not if she could help it.
“That’s not a title I afforded myself,” he
answered lazily, watching her carefully, like a cat
teasing a mouse. “However, ma cherie, I will be
generous this time.” He smiled as she froze,
listening to his every word. “Such courage and
audacity deserve a reward.”
He reached out and dipped his fingers between
her breasts, gently cupping around one of the warm
soft mounds. He took it in to the warmth of his
palm, his thumb playing with the hardening
rosebud.
Lola sucked in her breath, his touch not
unpleasant. “I’m listening,” she murmured throatily,
not above using her body to get what she wanted.

34
That was different than being used with nothing in
return.
“I shall release you and any of your men who
wish to return to England, but your cargo will
remain with me. That is my only offer.”
“Is that all you wish?” asked Lola coyly,
pressing her body into his.
“Yes, ma petite, he replied, then pinned her to
his chest and with the other arm, lifted her skirts
and found the hidden knife, pulling it from its
scabbard. “I prefer my women willing and without
hidden fangs,” he added, amused at the outrage on
her face.
She laughed derisively and stepped back. “Your
loss.”
Jacques watched her go and nodded to Frenchy
to release her and her men, and they kept the Satin
Lady under careful surveillance until she was well
under way.
“Send a launch into the Hideaway,” he ordered
Frenchy. “Tell Macalister we have goods for a slave
market and will require port, fresh water and
supplies, a cleaning for the Nemesis and docking for
an undetermined number of days.”
“Oui, Mon Capitan,” mocked Frenchy lightly and
he turned to his task.
______________

Frankie awoke panting for air, the remnants of

the old dream drifting slowly away. It was always
the same and always left her tired, yet wide-
awake.
Restlessly, she got up and dressed, strapping on
her sword that she never went anywhere without.
Silently, she made her way out and onto the moon

35
36
washed deck. She prowled the ship, checking on the
night watch. When she came upon Gerard asleep,
she was instantly angry.
Drawing her sword from its silver sheath, she
pressed it against his broad chest, intentionally
letting the point pierce the skin. “You are a dead
man.”
Gerard was instantly awake, his breath sucking
in with a hiss when he recognized the captain’s
deadly eyes glaring at him.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just
run this through your heart,” she snapped coldly.
Gerard was one of the pirates they had taken
aboard after they had razed another pirate ship, the
Lady Hawk. He had sworn allegiance to Frankie, but
Frankie hadn’t trusted him. It looked like her
instincts had been correct. The fool had fallen
asleep on watch, a deadly sin in their way of life.
“I…I be beggin yer pardon, Captain,” he
stuttered. He stealthily tried to hide the empty rum
bottle behind him, but Frankie’s sharp eyes caught
his movement.
“On your feet,” she commanded.
Gerard slowly arose, keeping as far into the wall
as he could to get away from the sword that was
pressed into his skin. Frankie kicked the empty
bottle away. “So, you’ve been drinking on watch as
well,” she said calmly. “You must not take me very
seriously?”
When he didn’t answer, she lowered her sword
and backed off. “Draw your sword,” she
commanded.
A feral grin lit up the man’s dirty features, and
he reached eagerly for his cutlass. This was going to
be fun! He’d best her, and then he would teach her
what women were good for in a man’s world. She

37
was a cocky beauty, hard as nails they said and a
superior fighter.
However, he simply didn’t believe she was that
good. No woman was good enough to take on a real
man. He’d just been biding his time anyway. Maybe
later he’d hook up with LaSalle and warn him the
wench was looking for him. In the meantime, he
intended to enjoy this!
Frankie could read the intent on the rogue’s
face, and she grimaced in disgust. She kept her
guard up easily, though, and watched his eyes, just
as Pierre had taught her. She felt the adrenalin
rushing in, and her eyes gleamed like polished
stones, waiting for him to make the first move.
In the shadows, Pierre watched carefully, his
hand on his sword. He would wait…although he was
sure he wouldn’t have to interfere. There were few
men he had seen with Frankie’s expertise. It
seemed to come naturally to her, and she drove
herself beyond excellence. She played with Gerard
like a cat with a mouse, and the fool wasn’t even
aware of it. A small smile played across his lips.
It was a scant few minutes before the half
drunken pirate was relieved of his sword. He lay flat
on his back, wondering how he had gotten there,
her booted foot in his chest and her sword at his
throat.
Frankie smiled wickedly in triumph and then
purred throatily, “So what’s the penalty for falling
asleep on watch?”
Going pale, Gerard snarled, “Ten lashes with the
cat o nine.” His eyes gleamed with hatred, and
Frankie knew she had made an enemy.
There were some men who respected her
prowess and authority when she bested them, and
some…like Gerard here…who were cowards at heart

38
39
and would sink a knife in your back when you
weren’t looking. She would be better off to finish
him, but she couldn’t be quite that cold-blooded. If
he had put up a better fight maybe…but he hadn’t.
“On your feet,” she commanded. “Take over,
Pierre, she said without looking in his direction.
Pierre chuckled and stepped out of the shadows.
“You are getting far too alert and skilled for your
own good, ma petite. I fear you will never find a
man to match your skill and spirit.”
She gave him a dark look. “What do I want with
a man?” she rejoined, meaning every word. In her
20 years of life, she had yet to meet one who
stirred her blood. A few had commanded her
respect, but none had touched her heart.
Pierre merely shook his head and began herding
Gerard to the mast to tie him in place.
Frankie looked out at the dawn arising over the
sea, the relentless red fingers of the sun painting
the far off horizon. It was breathtaking, but her
thoughts weren’t on the view.
Would she ever forget that day she wondered?
Would it always haunt her? Seeing her father go
down under four filthy pirates and her mother
spirited away, her face filled with shock and horror
as a burly pirate tossed her over his shoulder. The
huge pirate had grabbed a rope to take them both
across to the Nemesis and away from
Frankie…perhaps forever. Frankie shivered.
“Get her out of here, Pierre,” her father had
commanded desperately and Pierre had. He had
taken them both backwards over the railing and
down into the murky depths of the green water
below them.
Her mother’s strangled screams still rang in her
ears, and as the dark water had closed over her
head, her last sight had been Jacques LaSalle,
40
standing like a statue at the prow of the black ship,
watching the carnage…and her.
Pierre had cut her dress off to keep them from
being dragged under, and then hauled her to a lone
rowboat, bobbing upside down between the ships.
He had brought them up under the boat and
slapped her has as she came up screaming.
“Swim, Frankie, swim for our lives,” he had
commanded, and he had put her hands against the
inside of the boat’s hull. In shock and pain, Frankie
had done as he ordered, and they had gotten away,
but to what? Her mind always took her
back…especially at night.

41
 Chapter Three

Morg watched as the Nemesis slid silently into

the harbor, the color of the big black ship making it
look menacing. It was easy to see why it inspired
fear and legends. Like a mighty sea beast, she slid
in on watery feet and docked at the assigned
location. The ship intrigued him greatly, and he was
looking forward to getting a closer look at it.
There were many tales of the black pirate ship,
but Morg had never tangled with it himself. As far
as he knew, no one had ever beaten her in a fight,
and rumors had filtered down that it was faster than
any galleon in the Caribbean. It was easy to see
why, she was not quite the size of a normal galleon
and was built for speed and fighting, not just battle
or speed alone. He stared greedily as her black sails
came down, and men rushed to tie her off and lower
the gangplank. Time to meet the infamous Jacques
LaSalle.
Jacques stood at the railing looking out over the
newly developing settlement. He saw the bold stride
of the man coming down the wharf and knew it
must be Morg Macalister. His sharp eyes didn’t miss
a detail about his appearance from the gold earring
in his right ear to the tips of his shiny black boots.
The man was a leader and carried himself proudly…
too proudly to be a common pirate.
His eyes narrowed, and he smiled thinly as
Macalister came to a halt at the bottom of the
gangplank and studied him in return.
“Welcome to The Pirates Hideaway. I’m
Governor Macalister.” Morg stood at rest, his hand
on the hilt of his sword, arrogance in his very
stance. He carefully studied the notorious
Frenchmen as he walked towards him, his bearing

42
43
almost regal. His dark hair was tied back in a black
ribbon like his own, and his dark piercing eyes gave
nothing away. His red silk shirt was open at the
neck and fit like a second skin, enhancing the
appearance of the powerful muscles of his chest and
shoulders, tapering to a narrow waist. “Your man
said ye were staying indefinitely?”
Jacques stopped and nodded, his ears tuned to
the Scottish brogue, not unpleasant to the ear.
“Oui, monsieur, that is correct. And are you
prepared for a slave market? Or is the settlement
too new as yet?”
“Ye have women?” Morg was interested, his
green eyes lighting up at the news.
“Oui, monsieur. A little gift from the lovely Lola.”
Jacques’s grin widened as Morg’s eyes narrowed in
realization that his men must have missed that
detail. He wondered exactly how it would have
escaped the sharp-eyed Scotsman, but he
shrugged.
Something about LaSalle’s wicked grin tickled
Morg’s sense of humor, and he smiled wryly. “Now
wasn’t that decent of the wee lass?” He’d have to
take it up with Nigor later. Looked like his
handpicked men hadn’t been very thorough.
“Very decent,” agreed Jacques, his eyes
twinkling.
“Strange lass, that one,” Morg said evenly,
pulling on his blonde moustache.
“Cunning as the devil, always changing her story
to fit the circumstances,” Jacques added.
“Aye, don’t they all?” Morg shrugged his broad
shoulders. In spite of himself, he found there was
something about the man standing in front of him
that he felt a kinship with. “We have a definite need
for women here, and I’m sure there will be many
looking for servants, bar maids and whatever else a
44
man might want. I’ll have to ask ye to keep the
lasses on board until the auction. I don’t want nae
fighting amongst my men over them.”
Jacques nodded. “How soon can we set up the
sale?”
“Just as soon as ye are ready, the sooner the
better. How many do ye have?”
“There are twenty two on board, but I want you
to see that they have decent buyers. I don’t like
trading in flesh, but my men would mutiny on me if
I didn’t allow them the sale.”
Jacques had no taste for selling women, and he
would personally check each one out beforehand to
make sure none were of aristocratic blood. It was
the best he could do for them. He had bought a few
himself in the past at such sales and then sent them
home, not knowing whom their benefactor was.
“Aye, I nae have a taste for it either, but the
island needs women. I’ll see to it, ye have my
word.”
The two men nodded at one another, a mutual
understanding passing between them. Morg turned
and left, his long stride eating the ground as he
headed for the tavern.
He stopped suddenly and sniffed the wind, a
chill at his back so strong that he turned towards
the open sea as if drawn to it by a strange hand.
There it was again, that feeling of uneasiness.
Something…or someone, was coming…he could feel
it. He scanned the horizon, looking for something,
anything, that would explain his uneasiness, but
nothing was there. Disgruntled, he shook his head
and turned away.
Jacques watched the strange actions of
Macalister and wondered what was wrong. He had
the look of a man plagued by something. He turned
when Frenchy spoke in his ear.
45
 “Capitan, you remember that man we picked up
off Devil’s Reef?”
“Oui, Frenchy,” Jacque replied. “What about
him?”
“He has a strange story to tell my friend. It
seems there is a French ship looking for you. A ship
captained by a beautiful woman…a she-devil he
called her. She made him walk the plank for
refusing to serve her, and she handles the sword
better than most men.”
“What is the name of her ship?” Jacques asked
idly.
“She is called The Aphrodite, and she sometimes
flies The Jolly Roger.”
“Fascinating,” murmured Jacques. “I wonder
what she wants with me?”
“To hear this man talk, she wants to kill you, my
friend,” chuckled Frenchy.
Jacques’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“Indeed?”
Frenchy nodded. “Perhaps she will find her way
here?”
“Just in case, I’d better start practicing,” said
Jacques with a roguish grin. “I wouldn’t want to
disappoint her and not present her with a
challenge.” His black eyes gleamed with interest.
“Oui, Mon Capitan,” laughed Frenchy, knowing
that no man had ever bested Jacques LaSalle, let
alone a woman. This should prove most interesting
if the lady in question made it to the
Hideaway…most interesting indeed!
______________

Two days had passed and a heated argument

was going on aboard the Aphrodite. They had
dropped anchor outside the Pirates Hideaway, and
at Pierre’s insistence, were discussing their options.
46
Kat listened with growing apprehension as Pierre
tried to talk sensibly to her sister.
“I say we go in boldly and challenge LaSalle.
After all, we outgun him. He has nowhere to run!”
Frankie’s eyes were alight with battle fever, and she
was ready to attack. Looking through the spyglass,
she could see the black ship bobbing gently in her
docking, a perfect sitting duck. They had come so
far…she was filled with the raging desire to end
it…now!
“You have to come up with a better plan than
that, Frankie,” insisted Pierre hotly. “Stop thinking
of revenge for a minute and think of the 300 lives
on board, many of them your father’s own loyal
crew. They have wives and families to go home to!”
He waved his hand towards the harbor. “As you
can see, Gaston’s information was correct. The
harbor is set up to let only one ship at a time in and
out. There is not room for more than that! If we go
in there with guns blazing, they may all attack us or
surround us and disarm us. And if they find out that
most of us are not really pirates, we may never be
allowed to leave!”
“But, once we defeat the Nemesis, we can take
LaSalle and do as we wish with him,” insisted
Frankie. “Why are you so dead set against it,
Pierre? We have the advantage of surprise.” She
ground her teeth in frustration.
“Because Macalister will never allow a fight
within the harbor. You know the harbor bylaws!”
Pierre paced back and forth, his eyes flashing. “You
surely can’t believe Macalister won’t have cannons
along the shore and guards on duty? If we break
the laws, we are subject to our ship being
confiscated and all aboard it, including cargo and
women. Is that what you want?”

47
 He strode over to Frankie and stared down into
her angry face. “Have you even thought about Kat?
What will happen to you two if they should find out
you are Lord Fontaine’s daughters?
He turned away then and ran a hand along his
chin. “Not only that, but there is something about
LaSalle that is familiar. I just can’t quite put my
finger on it, but I know I’ve seen him before. The
way he stood at rest on the bow of the
Nemesis…something about him.”
Pierre broke off, irked with the niggling that
would not stop concerning the man. “If only I had
seen him up closer.”
“So what do you suggest then?” Frankie’s eyes
glittered with frustrated rage. “That we issue him a
challenge to come from the harbor and fight on the
open seas? Like that’s going to work! Anyway, I
don’t hear you coming up with anything better!”
Her snide attitude had Pierre flushing with
anger, and he wondered if the paddle might not
come amiss at this point. His brother had done the
girls no favors by not disciplining them when they
were younger. They were far too independent for
their own good.
“Of course not,” he snapped, running his fingers
through his heavy blonde mane. “I suggest we go in
as we would anywhere else, and then get the lay of
the land. Find out who is there and what is going
on. Then make an informed decision. By now, I’m
sure word of the Aphrodite having a woman captain
has spread all over the Caribbean. LaSalle may
even know you are looking for him. We must be
prepared for all contingencies, ma petite. Surely,
you can see that?”
Frankie sighed impatiently. Yes, she could see
that, but it didn’t make it rankle any less. She
wanted this over with…she had to find out if there
48
was any chance her mother was still alive…and then
end LaSalle’s wretched life!
When the French monarch had approached Lord
Gatineu Fontaine to relocate to the colonies and set
up a merchant shipping business based out of New
Orleans, who had ever thought this would happen?
The exchange of goods between the new lands and
the old continent was a thriving one, one to make a
man rich he had been told. He hadn’t been lied to.
So the Duke of Frontenac and his duchess and
their twin daughters, then 12 years old, had
relocated to the new land and soon had a thriving
plantation and a rich merchant shipping business.
All had been well, until disaster had struck!
Frankie shook off her dark thoughts and faced
the issues at hand. “All right, Pierre, send a launch
informing this Macalister that we wish to dock. We
will play it your way…for now.”
She turned to the window, trying to calm herself
and have patience. At least, they finally had LaSalle
cornered. As long as they were at the mouth of the
harbor, he couldn’t get away from them! “Make sure
someone is watching the harbor constantly. I won’t
allow him to slip away from us again.”
Pierre shook his head. He feared for Frankie and
Kat. As much as they had seen in the last few
years, he still felt they were unprepared for some of
the atrocities they could still be forced to endure.
The relative safety of the Aphrodite, surrounded
by a crew mostly loyal to Gatineu Fontaine was a lot
different than being among true pirates. He had
helped them to avoid exposure to the harbors they
had docked in as much as possible…sending men
ahead whenever it could be arranged, leaving the
girls on board.
Pierre knew if anyone could pull off a coupe of
Jacques LaSalle, it would be Frankie. She was well
49
trained and finely skilled, more so than most men
he had ever trained. But at what price would victory
be wrought he wondered? Would any of them ever
see home again? With a grim sigh he turned to go.
Kat had listened while Pierre and Frankie
argued, impatient at Frankie’s stubbornness. She
too sighed when she finally heard Frankie relent.
Kat was certain of one thing, their deaths would
serve no purpose, and Frankie’s desperation for
vengeance was clouding her logic. The transition
had been slow, but inevitable, she supposed. They
had started out with a clear plan, one that had
seemingly unraveled again and again. Months had
turned to years, and they still did not have LaSalle’s
head. Her distaste for this life was increasing daily.
She nodded to Pierre as he brushed past her
and out of the cabin, then turned back to Frankie.
With the grace of a cat she planted herself on the
tabletop and eyed Frankie through her crystal green
eyes. Her slender finger mindlessly traced the
outline of her thigh through her favorite pair of
men’s breeches.
Her mind wandered aimlessly, and her thoughts
momentarily focused on her lover, the one she had
left behind. For a moment, it was his hand that was
playing along her thigh, roaming languidly across
her bare flesh, slowly blazing a path to her
womanhood. She closed her eyes and felt her rose
colored nipples harden at the thoughts that
engulfed her.
Oh, how she longed for him, to feel his smooth
skin pressing against her milky flesh. She shook her
head to clear away the imagery flashing through her
brain. She had given herself to him countless times.
She hadn’t cared that it wasn’t what a Duke’s
daughter was supposed to do before marriage, she

50
did what she desired, and she always had. She
longed desperately to return to her old life.
“Frankie, this has to work,” Kat blurted out into
the silence, her feelings so intense she couldn’t hold
them back anymore.
Her outburst took Frankie by surprise, and her
eyes narrowed.
“I can’t stand it anymore, Frankie! This has to
come to an end here and now, at this Pirate’s
Hideaway… It has to be finished! We cannot fail
again!” Her passionate plea did not fall on deaf
ears.
“I agree, Kat. This time will be the last time we
find ourselves on the edge of a port awaiting news
of Jacques LaSalle’s whereabouts, I promise you
that,” vowed Frankie fervently. “We will make it
work this time!”
Kat’s voice became a cool whisper. “Let’s not
fight him in the open. Let’s not risk all of these
lives.”
Frankie’s eyes narrowed again, and she studied
her sister. “What are you suggesting, Kat?”
Kat’s voice was cold and calculated as she stated
her idea flatly. “Let’s get close to him, and when he
isn’t expecting it, slit his damn throat. I want to see
him die, Frankie. I want to know it’s over. I need to
know it’s over. Don’t you want to look into his eyes
and whisper our mother’s name as his blood spills?”
“You have no idea how much I want him dead,
Kat,” Frankie replied. She was a bit taken aback at
the vehemence in Kat’s voice, though. She studied
her sister for a moment, the clear green eyes so full
of determination, the small piquant face flushed
with feeling. How hard this must be for her, she
realized.
Kat and Pierre had supported her completely
when she had said she was going to look for
51
LaSalle. Pierre had trained them for three years,
and then they set sail… It had been almost two
years now, and they still hadn’t found a trace of
their mother.
Frankie stared grimly at Kat. “We’ll find
him…and when we do, he will tell us what happened
to our mother…then we will kill him.”
The two girls smiled at each other, but their
smiles did not reach their eyes.
______________

Gazing through his spyglass, Morg scanned the

galleon that had dropped anchor outside the harbor.
The name on her side was the Aphrodite. Nigor had
informed him of the pirate that had been telling
tales of the French woman seeking LaSalle’s head.
It looked like he might be right…at least about a
ship called the Aphrodite.
Morg felt uneasy as he stared at the ship
through the glass. She was a beautiful full sized
galleon, very capable and very deadly. Well gunned
and well manned. If she wanted to create havoc, it
would be a hard battle stopping her from her
vantage point at the mouth of the harbor.
The back of his neck tingled. There it was again,
that feeling of something in the air…something he
couldn’t put a name too. Perhaps this ship was the
source of that feeling. Maybe this woman would
have the audacity to actually start a war in his
harbor!
He dropped his glass and shouted orders to
Nigor and his crews. There would be no fighting on
his islands! He was the Governor here now,
appointed by the British crown, and he didn’t intend
to let a blood vendetta destroy his growing colony
and business. It was time to visit the mighty galleon

52
and this she devil captain he had heard so much
about.
Soon, the Lady Princess and the Lady Queen
were on either side of the anchored ship, and Morg
motioned the Lady Princess in closer. It was then he
saw them.
He was astonished at the regal bearing and
beauty of the women as they stood at rest,
watching him warily. The morning sun outlining
their bodies through their silk shirts was an
unexpected sight, and he found himself entranced
with the red haired one whose burnished curls
glinted in the morning sun. That nagging feeling of
impending doom intensified, and he wanted to get a
closer look at her.
“Permission to come aboard,” Morg yelled, not
knowing which one, if either, was the captain. That
question was answered when the tall dark haired
one stepped forward and nodded.
A plank was thrown between the sides of the
two ships, and Morg walked across, leaving his
weapon with Nigor as a sign of good faith. He
thought he might have made a mistake when the
dark haired woman drew her sword and held the
point just under his nose.
“State your business,” Frankie demanded.
Morg’s gloved hand gently moved the rapier
aside, his glittering green eyes giving nothing away.
Inside, he was seething at her attitude. Apparently,
the she-devil could not even be civil. He bowed
slightly in greeting.
The rapier point returned again, and once more,
she demanded, “State your business or get off my
ship.”

53
54
 Behind her, Pierre’s lips thinned in disapproval.
Perhaps, he should have taken her more often into
the ports, he thought. Then maybe she would be
more familiar with protocol in dealing with these
harbormasters. She had insisted on being allowed
to do it this time, and Pierre had agreed to calm her
down and make her see reason.
Holding his temper at her rudeness, Morg
replied. “My name is Morgan Macalister, and I have
come to find out your purpose here in the Pirate’s
Hideaway. I am governor here, and rumor of your
search for Jacques LaSalle has reached my
ears…and most likely his ears as well. It would
seem some shark bait of yours found its way to the
Nemesis.”
Frankie’s eyes narrowed as he talked, and she
slowly lowered her sword. “Go on.”
“I am no friend of Jacques LaSalle, nor ye
either, lass. I am simply here to state that if ye two
get into a fight in my harbor, I will sink both your
ships and hang every crewmember. Our harbor is
ringed with 40 twelve-pound cannons, and I have a
fleet of four ships, plus friends. Neither of ye will
have a chance. That is not a threat, Captain. That is
a promise.” His deep emerald eyes glinted in
warning as he stated his business.
Frankie stared boldly at Macalister, her eyes
giving nothing away. “I don’t know what or who you
chose to believe, and frankly, I don’t give a damn.
You are only here right now because I chose not to
open fire on you when you came out of the harbor.
Had we wished, you would be at the bottom of the
bay right now, so don’t threaten me, Macalister.
Perhaps you should be more careful who you listen
to.”
“That is correct, Monsieur Macalister,” added
Kat, emphasizing the monsieur delicately as if he
55
had no right to be addressed with that much
courtesy. Her green-eyed gaze raked over his
masculine physique appreciatively as she stepped
up beside her sister. She felt his animal magnetism
and was both repelled and fascinated by it. She did
not appreciate her body’s response to a common
pirate. “Shark bait is rarely reliable.” Her tiny nose
flared in distaste.
“All we require from you is safe harbor and fresh
supplies. Our business with Monsieur LaSalle is just
that…OUR business. Surely, he is not such a coward
as to be afraid of a woman?” Frankie arched her
eyebrow scornfully.
“If so,” chimed in Kat, “you may tell him that we
won’t hurt him…much.” Her lovely mouth curved in
a slight mocking smile.
Morg’s eyes narrowed as he ingested the well-
cloaked insult and debated as to what, if anything,
he should do about it. Studying the small red haired
sprite he felt the surge of hot desire flash through
his loins as well as the urge to punish, to subdue…to
create in her the same desire he was feeling.
When his dangerous gaze scanned her, he felt
the same uneasiness pool in his chest once again
that had been plaguing him since last night. Was
this red headed imp the source of that disquiet?
Pierre cleared his throat behind the girls, his
brows drawn together in a frown, but he did not
interfere. He scowled when Kat turned and flashed
him a wink and a bright grin, her small white teeth
gleaming in the sunlight.
Macalister did not miss the exchange, and he
was intrigued as to what was going on here, but he
would not probe for now. It was clear that these
women had business with LaSalle, but as long as
they did not intend to tear up his harbor that was all
he was really concerned with.
56
 He bowed mockingly to the women. “Ye may
have safe harbor and all the supplies and fresh
water you need at the usual price of 100 per ship
and ten gold per day, but heed my warning…it won’t
be repeated. Cross me, and your crew will pay with
their lives while ye two…ye will only wish ye had
gotten off that easily.” His green eyes held a clear
warning and glittered coldly in the morning light.
Frankie merely stared at him, refusing to be
intimidated in any way. “Don’t threaten me,
Macalister,” she said frigidly. “You’ll find we don’t
scare that easily by the likes of you.”
Morg watched as Kat moved in close to her
beautiful sister. There was no fear in either of their
defiant eyes. The lack of fear intrigued him, but the
lack of respect irked him. Perhaps some day, he
would get the chance to teach them a little of each,
especially the red-haired one. He bowed slightly
again and turned to go.
Walking back to the Lady Princess, Morg’s back
was stiff and ramrod straight. After facing the two
sisters, he warred with conflicting feelings. Bed
them, spank them, or take off their heads with his
sword. The encounter had certainly left him
unsettled and seething at their lack of respect for
his station.
When he dropped to the deck, Nigor approached
him, followed by an old crewmember of Calico
Jacks.
“This man has something to tell you, Sir,” Nigor
said. He motioned to a lean man with an eye patch.
“Well, what is it?” Morg snapped.
“Captain, I know that ship. She is no pirate ship;
she is a French pirate Hunter!” The man smiled a
toothy knowing grin.
“How would ye know this?”

57
58
 “Because I know that ship…I used to sail with
their father. That ship belonged to Lord Fontaine.
He and his wife were both killed by pirates, and
them girls is seeking revenge.”
“Well, now, that is good to know. Ye have done
well. Now keep this to yourself.” He looked at Nigor.
“Reward the man, Nigor, and then turn us around
and get us out of here.”
“Aye, captain.” The man took his gold coin and
scurried off.
Nigor spoke with a question. “We’ll be turning
our backs to them, Captain, that is an insult.”
“Show them our arse, Nigor, I don’t care if they
are insulted. That lumbering galleon is no match for
the clipper and the frigate. Besides, they insulted
me already.”
Morg’s eyes gleamed as he turned to watch the
captain and her sister out of sight. He gave them a
mock salute as the stern of the Lady Princess sent
water splashing across their bow on her swing
around. “Until we meet again, my haughty
beauties,” he murmured, watching Frankie’s mouth
tighten. They hadn’t even had the courtesy to
introduce themselves.
Pierre watched in grim silence as Morg sailed
away, his rude gesture well noted. He turned to the
girls who were grinning and looking quite proud of
themselves. His ire grew.
“So, you insult this man, and you find it funny
that he insults you back?” His voice was low and
smooth, and the girls instantly looked warily at him.
Pierre had been getting some strange ideas
lately…Frankie was remembering Pierre’s threat to
spank Kat the previous day.
“We enjoyed the exchange with him, if that’s
what you mean,” Frankie said cautiously, her
instincts on alert.
59
 Pierre’s temper was bubbling beneath his cool
exterior. “You girls have no respect for the
unknown! This is not the French court or a coming
out ball where the delicate repartee of disguised
barbs is accepted and practiced. You anger a man
like Macalister, and you could wind up dead!”
Pierre was spitting the words out furiously at
them. “You toy with things you don’t fully
understand! You both need to be taught a good
lesson in respect and deportment.”
He grabbed Kat by the arm and hauled her over
to a barrel where he sat and yanked her
unceremoniously across his lap.
“Let me go, Pierre, you can’t get away with
this,” Kat yelled, struggling furiously, then she bit
into his thigh.
Pierre roared and brought his hand down on
Kats pant covered bottom with a resounding Crack!!
“You stop that, Pierre,” yelled Frankie joining the
fray. She grabbed him from the back, hanging onto
his spanking arm with her right hand and looping
her left arm around his neck.
Pierre let go of Kat and reached up to remove
Frankie’s arm from around his neck. Now free, Kat
leaped up and tackled Pierre furiously. “How dare
you hit me!” she yelped, her small fists pummeling
him in the chest.
The barrel went over backwards and Pierre
sprawled out on the floor. Seeing the fury on his
face and the quick scramble to get up, Frankie
grabbed Kat by the hand and raced for the cabin.
“You two better run,” yelled Pierre furiously.

60
61
62
 Chapter Four

“Having trouble, Monsieur?” Gaston asked as he

bent over and retrieved Pierre’s hat. He tried
valiantly to hide his amusement.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” muttered Pierre
angrily. He took the hat and rammed it onto his
head and stalked away. He would deal with his
nieces later; he was too angry right now.
“Oh, Oui, Monsieur, Oui, I can see that,”
chuckled Gaston as he watched Pierre. Either of
those girls were bad enough one on one…the two of
them together was more than most men would be
able to handle. His sympathies certainly lay with
Pierre.
Pierre did not deign to answer him. Instead, he
yelled the order to prepare the Aphrodite for
entering the harbor. Nothing would be gained by
sitting out here, and their quarry was on the alert
now---nothing to do but go in boldly. They needed
supplies badly, at any rate, and the men needed a
break from the ship.
Pierre took the wheel himself. They would have
to be careful; he did not trust Macalister, especially
now that the girls had angered him. Despite his
obvious good breeding, the man was clearly a
pirate. Pierre sensed he was a man of his word and
did not made idle threats.
Watching the girls and making sure they did
nothing foolish and unplanned would be a full time
job. Once more, he gritted his teeth and wished he
had instituted spankings in their training regime a
long time ago.
______________

Morg watched from the shore as the Aphrodite

began her run into the channel. He had a surprise in
63
store for a certain pirate captain and her spitfire
sister. They would soon find that he was not a man
to be crossed lightly.
“Get those cannons ready,” he snapped at his
men. “We have company, and I want to greet them
properly.” His white teeth gleamed in a shark like
smile.
There was little doubt Morg’s island defensives
could sink the ship coming into the channel even
though she was magnificently gunned, but this was
not about sinking her. It was about letting a
disrespectful pirate hunter and her sister know that
their attitude would not be tolerated in his territory.
“One across her bow, men,” he commanded.
“You mean in front of her prow, Captain?” one of
the men asked nervously.
“Did I say that? Nay! I said across the cursed
bow!”
“But, Sir, she’s not completely sighted in yet,
what if the shell falls short?”
“Then we sink her.” Morg grabbed the pirate by
the shirt. “If ye ever question my orders again, I
will have ye whipped! Now fire the damned
cannon!”
The man hastily obeyed, and the cannon ball
went whooshing out over the channel with a mighty
boom and across the bow of the Aphrodite. It
landed on the other side, splashing water high into
the air as it hit the water.
The big galleon rocked as the waves jostled her,
and hands on deck were running for cover.
Morg smiled in satisfaction and signaled the
Lady Queen to move in behind the Aphrodite while
he raced for his horse. It was time to greet his
“guests” once again.
______________

64
 Frankie and Kat came running when they heard
the hiss of the cannonball that barely missed the
starboard side and the explosion that sent water
careening into the deck hands.
They grabbed Pierre’s arm as he held the big
wheel steady while the ship waffled and then
straightened out.
“Merde, but that was close, too close,” he
muttered, staring in the direction the ball had come
from.
Frankie was angry. “Just what is that idiot trying
to prove?” She brushed water drops from her
dampened shirt.
“You insulted him, that’s not hard to figure out.”
Pierre glared hard at her and Kat.
“So?”
“So, he didn’t like it! I tried to tell you, but you
thought it was funny didn’t you?”
“Don’t look now, Frankie, but I think we are now
an ‘escorted’ guest,” Kat barbed delicately, her
thumb indicating the Lady Queen moving in behind
them.
Frankie’s eyes narrowed. The message was
clear. The Aphrodite was a guest, but would remain
until Macalister decided otherwise. Okay, that’s fine
with me, Frankie thought. It suited her purpose for
the moment.
However, when she was ready to leave,
Macalister would have little say in the matter, and if
he tried…well…he didn’t know who he was dealing
with. He might just find he had bit off more than he
could chew.
Pierre interrupted her thoughts. “The Nemesis.”
He nodded to the left, and Frankie could see the
black ship, three docks down. An image of her
mother’s face slashed across her mind, the Nemesis
in the background. Pure anger shot through her,
65
and her lips tightened in a grimace. Shaking it off,
she took a deep breath.
“I wonder if this place has a decent pub?’ Kat
said speculatively. “I could use some fresh, hot
food, something home cooked.”
“It’s almost noon.” Frankie walked to the railing,
observing the people milling about on the slip Pierre
was easing them into. Several of the men began
leaping over the side, preparing to tie them off, and
Gaston began to let the anchor down.
“You two are not going anywhere,” snapped
Pierre. He was still angry with them.
“I’m sick of this ship, Pierre,” stormed Kat.
“We’ve been at sea for 6 weeks since the last port,
and I need to feel dry land under my feet and talk
to someone besides sailors!”
“I know, Kat,” Frankie agreed. “I’m tired of it
too, and I already told you, Pierre, that we are not
going to sit on the ship this time. You promised me
we wouldn’t have to!”
“That was before you two decided to be rude
and arrogant to the man in charge,” snapped Pierre.
“You obviously need more training in protocol and
proper deportment before I let you roam about
alone.”
“Well, well, well,” chuckled Kat wickedly. “Look
who is coming to greet us.”
The girls ignored Pierre for the moment and
walked to the railing as the plank was lowered to
look down into the mocking eyes of Morg
Macalister.
Kat couldn’t stop the feeling of interest that
welled up in her as she watched the bold pirate…an
interest she hadn’t felt since leaving Louisiana and
Mace. Her almond eyes perused his tall figure,
lingering on the lean brown hands that rested on
the solid hips…nice hands. Kat liked hands…
66
particularly large ones with lean fingers that could
trail and tease…. she snapped her thoughts back to
the present and grinned lazily at the island
governor. Such a shame he was a dirty pirate.
______________

“So this is the woman who seeks me?”

murmured Jacques LaSalle, eyeing Frankie through
his spyglass where the girls stood on the deck of
the docking ship. “I think I am beginning to see
what she wants from me.” He handed the glass to
Frenchy. “Tell me what you see.”
Frenchy put the glass to his eye and swung it
along the deck of the Aphrodite. There was a small
but beautiful redhead dressed in men’s breeches
and a white silk shirt. “Nice,” he murmured,
“exceptional.” He then moved to the other female
and his face paled. “Sacre bleu!” he exclaimed. “It
cannot be!” Lowering the glass he stared intently at
Jacques.
Putting the glass to his eye again, he studied
Frankie, noting the lovely features and the long
dark hair blowing away from her face. He knew that
face and that hair. This was a younger version, but
it could be his Victoria all over again!
“It would seem that fate and a young woman’s
determination has brought us together once again,”
said Jacques, taking the glass from Frenchy and
sighting in Frankie again.
“So, my proud beauty, you want me, eh? I bet I
can guess what you wish to do with me. You are
hoping to shorten my days on this earth I am
certain.” He chuckled softly.
“What are we going to do, Jacques?
“Do? Why, we are going to do nothing, Frenchy.
We will let her make the first move. We shall
continue setting up the slave auction and preparing
67
to set sail once again. The lovely Capitan of the
Aphrodite will have to come seeking me. Then, we
shall see what happens.”
“What if she bests you?” teased Frenchy
sardonically, grinning at his old friend.
“Then I’m quite sure she shall kill me,” he
answered cheerfully. “However, that is very
unlikely, even though we may have tutored from
the same master. It should prove an interesting
game at any rate.” His sharp gaze hadn’t missed
Pierre Fontaine near the girls.
“Oui,” muttered Frenchy uneasily, “it will be
most interesting, this new development. I wonder if
the shock would bring Victoria’s memory back?”
Frenchy wasn’t sure how he felt about this. The
daughter’s arrival on the scene could cause untold
problems. He gripped the rails of the Nemesis,
staring towards the ship in the distance. He did not
intend to lose his lady, not for anyone, not even her
own daughter. Who would have thought her child
would come looking for her?
Jacques didn’t answer. He continued to study
Frankie, watching her movements, her commands
to the crew as they prepared the ship for docking.
There was something about her that moved him as
no woman had in a long, long time. He felt a stirring
of desire just watching her. At first glance, she was
so like her mother, but on closer inspection, there
were many small differences.
______________

That day flitted through his mind, the girl on the

ship, his men taking it, Pierre bringing the woman
back…so many images…but he remembered this
girl, her face full of revulsion, yet defiant to the
core. A young, proud beauty…then Pierre had taken
her over the side with him.
68
 He had watched the water but never saw them
come up. What a shame, he had been so entranced
even then and thought to take her for his own, but
fate had intervened. Now it looked as if the fates
were smiling on him once again.
“I wonder if those lips are as nectar sweet as
they look?” he muttered to himself, feeling the
hardness growing between his legs. She was a
woman to stir the blood, no doubt about that. Soon,
he promised himself, he would taste them and find
out.
______________

“Do you always greet guests this way?” Frankie

asked derisively, her blue green eyes stormy.
“Not always, but ye are a special case,” returned
Morg smoothly, his eyes sliding past Frankie to rest
on Kat. They gleamed in appreciation despite his
anger and then returned to Frankie.
“Ye remember my orders, Captain. I’m a man of
my word. Any destruction of property or fighting in
Pirates Hideaway will nae be tolerated. Oh…and it
might be best if ye two women stayed on board
while ye are here. This island is filled with randy
pirates, I wouldn’t want anything to be happening
to ye,” he said mockingly.
Frankie leaned over the railing, her eyes spitting
sparks. “You understand that I will hold YOU
personally responsible for any thievery or damage
to the Aphrodite from your men. And, if any louts
think an easy bedding to be had of my sister or I,
they will pay the price of OUR blades.”
Her eyes had gone a deep blue, and they
gleamed with intent. “I assume you have your
island under some sort of control, monsieur? Can
not your women stroll upon the boardwalks,
knowing YOUR word is all that is needed to keep
69
them safe?” Frankie mocked. “If not, then I suggest
you look at your skills of command and make a
difference, that is, if you mean to actually BE in
control here.”
The barb was not lost on Morg, and a dull flush
deepened his neck. He knew that power and
strength went to the strongest, the most willing to
pay the price of control. She was not questioning
his control so much as his right to mete justice
should she or her crew mete out their own if they
were crossed. It was clear she would defend herself
and her crew if she thought it necessary, and the
devil take him and his orders!
“Also, monsieur,” Frankie continued boldly,
“should the necessity to cross swords with you
come up, I shall look forward to it.” She turned her
back to him then and strode away, satisfied that
she had gotten the last word. Let him see her ass
this time!
Morg’s nostrils flared as he fought down the
urge to board her ship and come after her and her
sister. His palm itched to make contact with the
arse that was walking away from him, her dismissal
evident. As for the other one, those lush lips were
just begging to be taken, those breasts to be
fondled…. he shook his head to clear his lusty
thoughts. After returning Kat’s bold mocking stare,
he spun on his heel and stalked away, Nigor at his
side.
“Shall we board the ship, Sir?” Nigor asked. “We
have well over 300 men that will follow you into
hell. The way she spoke to you, Sir, we should kill
her crew and then stake her and her sister out for
the men to take turns with.”
“No, Nigor, let the little lass have her moment,
she is the captain after all,” he answered with
grudging admiration. She hadn’t backed down one
70
whit, and he had to give her credit for that.
However, her temper would be her downfall in the
end. “Just keep an eye on them…and, Nigor…no one
is to touch them. Do I make myself clear?”
“Aye, Sir, I’ll pass the word.” Nigor reluctantly
stalked off. He hadn’t missed his Captain’s interest
in the little redhead. It wouldn’t be easy to keep the
dogs off those two if they decided to flaunt
themselves about the harbor, but he would do his
best. Lord help anyone that disobeyed the Captain’s
orders.
Kat grinned as her sister passed by her, “Nice,
Frankie, but next time give your butt an extra shake
and bring him to his knees.”
Frankie’s creamy face blushed slightly, and she
smiled sheepishly. “You are bad, Kat.”
Kat swept her long red hair off her shoulder and
with a wink of her eye responded, “I never claimed
otherwise.”
“As captain, you handled that well, ma petite,”
said Pierre, walking up to the girls. “However, now
that we are in dock, I wish to speak with you two in
the cabin if you please?” He ushered them towards
the cabin in the middle of the ship.
“What is this about, Pierre,” Kat asked
suspiciously.
“We need to have a talk about the rules that are
to be followed. And plans to make as well.”
“As long as talking is all you have in mind, we
are willing to talk,” muttered Frankie, not altogether
trusting of Pierre after this morning’s incident.
“We will see how talking goes first,” Pierre
replied smoothly, a large hand gripping each girl by
the arm.
The girls looked at each other, his hint not lost
on them. Their lips tightened. He better not dare try
anything else!
71
 ______________

Jacques stepped through the doorway and into

the lower hold of the Nemesis
“Over here,” called Frenchy, motioning Jacques
to come to where a young woman was huddled in
the corner of the room. “On your feet, girl,” growled
Frenchy, hauling the young woman up.
The girl stared defiantly at Jacques, fear in her
eyes. She was dirty and unkempt, but she was also
exquisite. Her eyes were as blue as the ocean on a
sunny day and her hair like spun silk from a
cornhusk, with hues of white running through the
already light blonde coloring. Her dress was dirty,
but her carriage and the delicate bones of her face
gave away her breeding.
Jacques took her hands and inspected them.
They were soft and not a scar or a hint of a callous
on the tender palms. This girl was of breeding all
right; she had known no physical work. “The dress,”
ordered Jacques to Frenchy.
Frenchy took out his knife and cut the dress
away, the girl protesting all the while. At last, she
stood proudly, dressed only in her thin silk spun
chemise. Her skin was the same fine porcelain all
over, and Jacque twirled her around to inspect her
fully. She flushed beet red at his heated gaze and
tried to cover herself with her hands.
“Have her taken to my cabin and make sure she
stays, Frenchy. Have water brought for her to bathe
in.”
Frenchy nodded and handed her off to a couple
of burly pirates standing there with strict
instructions. The men nodded, familiar with the
routine.

72
73
 Jacques then turned to the rest of the women.
After inspecting them to his satisfaction, he nodded
to Frenchy. “Have them cleaned and prepared for
this afternoon. The landowners and merchants will
want to inspect them before the sale begins.”
Again, Frenchy nodded. Each woman would be
stripped, cleaned and put in a tunic slit to the waist
and open to the navel. The buyers would want to
inspect their wares thoroughly before purchasing. It
was a cold-blooded business, and one Frenchy had
no taste for. He would make sure the crew did not
mistreat the women before they went on the
auction block, it was the least he could do.
Jacques grimaced as he stepped out the door.
He did not wish to deal in the flesh trade, but once
the men had known the women were on Lola’s ship,
they would not have been happy if he had let her
take them. Women brought money…lots of money.
Some of the finer specimens would go for thousands
in gold coin.
Jacques did not cater to his men; neither did he
want a mutiny on his hands. He cared naught for
what happened to them anyway, as long as they
were not any of his family or of noble birth. The
nobility could be ransomed if one was so inclined.
There were other things that could be done with
the gentry as well. The bulge in his pants hardened
as he thought of the girl awaiting him in his cabin.
Briefly, the image of Frankie flitted through his
mind. He was looking forward to their encounter,
but for now, he had other work to do.
He wanted to be on hand when the people came
to inspect the women. Each girl would be guarded
by two of his men. Buyers would come in close,
looking the girls over for age, appearance, strength
of muscle etc…all depending on what the buyer was
looking for. Some would go as bar wenches, some
74
as servants, some as whores and some as house
slaves. There were many reasons why men bought
women…or that women might buy women.
______________

Morg headed towards the Nemesis, intent on

having a chat with LaSalle. After meeting with the
fiery sisters, he felt some further damage control
was in order. He spotted LaSalle just coming out of
the hold of his ship. “Permission to come aboard,”
he called up to the tall pirate.
LaSalle motioned him up, and Morg strode up
the plank and stopped in front of him. “I’ve just
come from the Aphrodite,” he stated flatly.
“Ah, yes…the one with the beautiful she devil…I
have heard of her.” Jacques’s eyes were guarded
although he smiled thinly at Morg. “Would you care
to come in for drink while we talk?” He motioned
toward his cabin.
Morg was more than willing. He wanted to see
the insides of the Nemesis. If an opportunity
presented itself, he would own it.
“So, you like my ship?” asked Jacques silkily,
noting the gleaming interest in the emerald green
eyes of the Scottish pirate turned seeming island
governor. Many men had coveted the Nemesis, but
Jacques did not give up what was his.
“Aye, I have heard many tales of her prowess.”
“And, they are all true, I’m sure.” Jacques
poured two shots of whiskey and handed one to
Morg.
His secretive smile intrigued Morg, and he
studied the gentlemen pirate, as the seas had
dubbed him. What made a man like Jacques LaSalle
give up home and country to become a pirate, he
wondered? He tossed back the shot. Many had
wondered the same thing about him.
75
76
 “I have heard the beautiful captain of the
Aphrodite has a personal score to settle with ye,” he
said bluntly. “I’m here to warn ye I’ll nae stand for a
grudge war in my harbor. I’ll hold ye and her
personally responsible if something starts, and ye
will both regret crossing me.” He handed LaSalle
back the glass.
“Indeed?” Jacques’s eyebrow went skyward in a
flash of admiration. Morg was obviously a man used
to coming straight to the point. No subterfuge
there. He liked that.
“Aye, indeed. I’ve already warned the lass.” His
lip curled in a cruel smile. “She won’t enjoy the
consequences should she be so foolish. She, nor her
vixen sister.”
“I’ve not met the Captain myself, although they
say she calls herself Captain Frank… Frankie to
those close to her. I doubt she would have come
this far to start a foolish war within the harbor. I
shall let her play her hand and come looking for me,
then I shall deal with her as I see fit.”
His eyes narrowed suddenly as he pinned Morg
in a stare from the black depths. “It would be best if
nothing happened to the girl. I’ll deal with her
myself,” he warned softly.
Morg nodded. Looked like they understood each
other. “I’ve already given orders the lasses are nae
to be touched…neither one of them. Anyone who
breaks my word will find themselves on the wrong
end of my blade.”
The two men appraised each other, each sensing
the other’s interest in the sisters.
Finally, LaSalle spoke. “Come, Monsieur
Macalister, I will give you a tour of the Nemesis,
including the cargo in the hold. Perhaps one might
draw your interest. I would be willing to make a
deal ahead of time if you are so inclined.”
77
 “Thank ye, Captain LaSalle, I am most
interested.” His emerald eyes gleamed as he
followed Jacques out the door…whether from
thoughts of the ship, or the women, Jacques could
not be sure. Perhaps it was a bit of both.
______________

“Pierre, will you stop coddling us?” Frankie

blazed. “You’ve protected and hidden us for the last
two years, and I’m tired of it! We are close to our
quarry now, and I have no intention of hiding
behind your shadow any longer. I WANT that man!”
“I agree with Frankie, it’s time we stood on our
own, Uncle Pierre.” Kat walked over to Pierre and
laid her small hand on his arm, her earnest green
eyes looking up into his golden ones. The girls only
called him Uncle when they were trying to beguile
him. Between Frankie being so adamant and Kat so
sweet, Pierre was being turned inside out.
“Mon Dieu, but you girls are stubborn,” Pierre
finally replied in frustration. He had brought them
inside the cabin to lay down the law, and they were
running him in circles.
He itched to get the paddle from the workout
room, but he was afraid it was too late. He was
getting too old for this! He threw his hands up in
the air. He’d rather go to battle than deal with his
two hardheaded nieces.
“All right, all right! You may go ashore, but you
are to wear capes and stay as inconspicuous as
possible. Hang around the locale and see if you can
pick up information on LaSalle. But, I warn you, you
had better be back here within an hour, or you
won’t like the consequences.”
The girls smiled in triumph. They stopped
smiling at his next announcement. “And you will

78
have an escort!” They both scowled at him, but
Pierre was having none of it. “Take it or leave it!”
“We’ll take it,” they grumbled.
The girls were quiet as they prepared to head to
the docks. Kat looked at Frankie. “What are we
going to do if we see LaSalle? Shall we kill him?”
Kat ran her tiny finger over the blade of her pearl
handled knife, the tip of her tongue on her lip as if
she were savoring the thought.
“You’re not bloodthirsty enough for that, Kat,”
replied Frankie tucking the cotton shirt into her
pants. It was thicker and heavier, therefore less
revealing than the white silk ones they had worn
this morning.
Kat’s gemlike eyes turned suddenly cold. “You’d
be surprised, Frankie.”
Frankie looked up curiously. She felt a chill at
the look on Kat’s sweet face. Mon Dieu, what was
this life doing to her…to them? She shuddered. “We
can’t kill him, Kat, not until we find out what he did
with our mother,” she hissed warningly. “Once we
find out what happened to her, then we can decide
what to do with him!”
Kat quickly flipped the knife and threw it deftly
to land in the wall behind her sister. “I say we just
kill him, Frankie,” she snapped. “Our mother is
dead, do you hear me? Dead! Just like our father!
Let’s just kill him and have it done with!”
Frankie’s head jerked up when the knife sunk
into the wood. “You weren’t there, Kat, you don’t
know what happened! I saw Mother carried away,
she might still be alive…she IS alive… I can feel it!
In my dreams she calls to me.” Frankie’s eyes
burned intensely as she stared at Kat. “I have to
know, Kat…I have to know, can’t you see that?”

79
80
 Kat’s slender shoulders slumped in defeat. “All
right, Frankie, we won’t kill him. But, please tell me
this is going to be done with soon, I’m not sure how
much more I can take.”
Frankie gathered her sister in her arms, and
they clung to each other for a moment. “It will be
over soon…I promise.”

81
 Chapter Five

Frankie leaned back to look her sister in the

face. “I have noticed Macalister sending you
interested looks,” she teased gently, hoping to
lighten the atmosphere a little.
“Him? He should be so lucky,” scoffed Kat. “He
is just a filthy pirate, what interest could I possibly
have in him, even if I were so inclined?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think he is all pirate. I
think there is some breeding in him, somewhere. It
shows in his carriage and his language.”
Kat’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, but she didn’t
say anything else.
A short time later, Frankie and Kat had
navigated their way through the docks and found
the little pub called The Nasty Grubb. They tried to
ignore Gaston as much as possible, and they took a
table at the back with their rum, trying to blend into
the shadows. They were unaware of the eyes that
watched them avidly.
The pub was suspiciously quiet as the girls
sipped their drinks and looked around. When the
serving wench came over to ask if they would like a
refill, Frankie spoke. “Where is everyone? This place
is awfully empty for the middle of the afternoon and
several ships in port. Don’t the crews come here on
shore leave?”
“That’s because everyone is gone to the
auction,” explained the wench. “I hear tell they got
over twenty women over there. LaSalle done brung
‘em in and is putting ‘em up for sale!”
“Selling women?” Kat was aghast. She looked at
Frankie who looked disgusted. They both knew it
happened, they had just never seen it before.
Frankie chalked up one more black mark against the

82
83
pirate. She shoved her chair back and stood up,
briefly wondering if he had sold her mother. A sharp
stab of pain accompanied the thought, but she
pushed it away.
“Come on, Kat, let’s go see what’s going on.”
The wench looked curiously at Kat and Frankie.
“I’m guessing you two are the ones from that ship
that docked a while ago. The sisters, right? And one
of you is the captain?”
“My, news does travel fast around here,” Kat
mocked.
“I’m Captain Frank,” admitted Frankie. “My
friends call me Frankie, though. And this is my twin
sister, Kat.”
“Well, just some advice…from a friend…that ain’t
no place for a lady. Sometimes men will fight over a
woman, and there’s nearly always a killing or two.
I’d stay away from there if I were you. My name is
Monique, by the way…pleased to meet you!”
She grinned at the girls and flipped her long
brown hair behind her shoulder. She was a pretty
girl with a friendly face and huge blue eyes.
Freckles dusted the bridge of her nose, and her
slender figure was well shaped in the thigh high
dress she wore with a pinafore apron.
“Do you know LaSalle, Monique?” Frankie asked
carefully.
“I don’t know much about him except they call
him the gentlemen pirate. He ain’t been in the pub
yet. I seen him once over on Tortuga, though. He is
a pretty mean customer in a sword fight. They say
he ain’t never been bested.” She held the serving
tray up on top of her shoulder as she chatted with
the girls.
“Is that so?” probed Kat. “Have you ever seen
him fight?”

84
 “Nope, but my man has. Rusty says he’s quicker
than a lightning flash. He keeps to himself a lot,
though, kind of solitary like. My man sailed with him
for a while on the Nemesis…that was before he lost
his arm. The Nemesis ain’t ever lost a fight either.
They make a good pair, don’t they?”
Frankie felt a chill run down her back as the
image of her mother’s face flitted through her mind
again, the black sails set behind it. Some called it
the death ship. Those who dared to challenge
LaSalle and the Nemesis always lost.
“Thank you for the information, Monique. I think
we’ll just check out this auction for ourselves.”
Frankie drained her glass and handed it to Monique.
“Captain?” Gaston stepped up to the three
women. “It might be best if you didn’t go there, like
the girl said. A slave auction is no place for a
woman.”
“Who’s he?” Monique asked the question of
Frankie and Kat, much to Gaston’s ire.
“Just remember I am the Captain, Gaston, and I
give the orders.” Frankie’s face was cold and set,
her eyes raking Gaston’s imposing figure. “It seems
to me there are women there, women who certainly
should NOT be there, that I will agree with,” she
said silkily.
Gaston flushed angrily. He knew Pierre would
never approve of such an action, but he had been
reminded of his place. She WAS the Captain. “As
you wish,” he said, silently seething. He loosened
the hook on his sword to make sure it was within
easy reach. They might need it before they got
away from there.
The trio exited the pub into the afternoon
sunshine and turned to the right. All they had to do
was follow the sounds of excited shouts, and it
wasn’t long before they turned the corner around a
85
stand of palm trees and stopped dead at the sight
before them.
The auction stage was set up high on the beach,
and there was a man holding a young woman by
the arm. He was yelling out her attributes while two
men at either end of the stage repeated the bids
that men were yelling in from the audience.
At one point, the auctioneer lifted the back of
the girls dress, exposing her backside and bare
legs, giving her a hearty slap and laughing. The girl
hung her head and refused to look at the cheering,
jeering crowd.
It was only a moment that passed when a man
from the crowd approached the platform and passed
through the two guards at the end of the steps.
Striding up the platform, he handed the auctioneer
a purse, which the auctioneer then counted. When
he finished, he handed the loose rope that dangled
from the girl’s wrists over to the buyer. The buyer
then led her away amid the cheers and catcalls of
the crowd.
Kat and Frankie were incensed. “Mon Dieu!”
exclaimed Kat. “I cannot believe those poor women
are treated so miserably! Sold like animals!”
“I told you this was no place for you to come,”
reminded Gaston, his face grim. “Come, let us go,
now.”
But, Frankie was suddenly rooted to the spot.
Sitting off to the side under an open tent, was
Jacques LaSalle, and her gaze was riveted on him.
Intently, she began to stride towards him, bent on
getting some answers at last. As she walked, she
drew her sword. No one would get in her way, or
they would be cut down!
Kat immediately followed Frankie, having
spotted LaSalle as well once Frankie started towards
him.
86
 “Mon Dieu,” breathed Gaston, hurrying after the
girls. “We are all going to die this day!”
Frankie looked neither to the right nor the left as
she zeroed in on LaSalle. When he turned to face
her and slowly stood up, she smiled a feral smile of
satisfaction, the hunter cornering the hunted.
______________

Jacques was sitting causally beneath the open-

air tent enjoying his rum when the hair on the back
of his neck stood up. Looking around quickly, he
spotted three figures striding towards him. He
immediately realized it must the Captain of the
Aphrodite, although the first two figures were
covered in long capes with hoods on them. Behind
them came a third man…French…looking very grim.
“She approaches, my friend,” he said to
Frenchy, and then stood up, his hand resting on his
sword to meet her.
Suddenly, a tall figure stepped in front of the
trio, his back and those of three of his men blocking
the view of Frankie. Macalister!
“Hold it right there,” demanded Morg as he
stepped in front of Frankie.
Frankie brought her sword up. “Out of my way,”
she hissed.
“There will be no trouble here,” stated Morg
flatly. “Put those swords away!”
“I said…out of my way or die where you stand!”
ordered Frankie through gritted teeth. She hadn’t
come this far to let anyone stand in her way now
that her quarry was so close.
Kat moved up beside Frankie, her sword drawn,
and her face pale. But her green eyes were just as
deadly as Frankie’s. “You heard her, move aside,
Macalister.” She and Frankie had thrown their hoods

87
88
back in preparation to fight, and her red hair
gleamed in the sunlight.
Morg wasn’t about to let the girls get by with
ordering him around. It looked like they needed a
lesson. He nodded to his men, and they
immediately came at the girls, intending to disarm
them.
But, Frankie’s adrenalin was pumping, and she
quickly dispatched one with a shoulder jab. Kat and
Gaston were defending themselves against another
one, and Frankie soon disarmed the third, her boot
on his neck.
“That’s enough!” came a harsh command.
The participants all looked up to see Jacques
LaSalle standing there. “I am quite capable of
defending myself, Monsieur,” he said to Morg. He
had not drawn his sword, but stood staring at
Frankie.
Immediately, Frankie faced off with him, her
eye’s going a deep blue with emotion. She was
totally unprepared for the jolt that went through her
body. She couldn’t describe what it was unless it
was raw physical attraction at its finest. Her breath
came in a jagged gasp, and she fought the
sensation of melting in that dark gaze. “Arm
yourself,” she hissed.
Jacques folded his arms, not faring much better.
He was glad for the long tunic that would be hiding
the instant bulge between his thighs at the sight of
the raven-haired beauty up close. “To what
purpose, ma petite? If you kill me, you won’t have
the answers you seek. If I kill you, then I won’t
have the pleasure of your sweet lips. They do so
intrigue me.” He gave her a mocking grin and
bowed slightly, his pants straining uncomfortably
against him.

89
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 “That is a pleasure you will never have,” bit out
Frankie, further incensed at her traitorous body’s
reaction to this…pirate!
“How do you know we might seek answers,
LaSalle,” mocked Kat. “Perhaps, all we wish is to kill
you…or to feed you to the sharks.”
Kat was having her own problems with Morg’s
huge sensual presence right in front of her. Only,
she knew what was hitting her! Nothing but raw
heady desire…something she hadn’t experienced in
a long time…if ever. The pull of Morg’s attraction
was stronger by far than the feelings her lover had
incited in her. It was a devastating feeling, and she
hated it. She did not want to be attracted to this
bawdy pirate, not in the least!
Jacques sent Kat a sardonic grin. “Yes, you do
have a habit of acquiring food for the beasts I have
been told. However, it will not be me you feed to
the fishes next.”
He spread his hands wide and addressed
Frankie. “Come to my ship tonight…have supper
with me…we will talk.”
“What makes you think I’d go to your ship
alone?” scorned Frankie.
“You will, ma petite. I think you might be
interested in what I have to say.”
“That remains to be seen,” replied Frankie,
finally putting her sword away. There was nothing
more to be gained with frontal confrontation, not
with Macalister so bent on frustrating her.
“Be sure to wear a dress. I don’t like women in
pants.”
“I don’t care what you like; I’ll dress as I
please.” Frankie turned her back on him and walked
away, her temper simmering below the surface.
Jacques stared after her, tamping down the urge
to stop her and teach her some respect. The cape
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billowed out behind her in the wind, and he could
see her bottom outlined in men’s breeches, briskly
swaying from side to side as she walked. How he
would love to strip those men’s breeches off her and
apply his hand to those saucy cheeks before….
shaking his head, he pushed the errant thoughts
aside.
“That one needs a strong hand, Mon Capitan,”
murmured Frenchy wickedly in his ear. “Looks like
her sweet mother was remiss in her education.”
“Oui, Frenchy, I shall have to remedy that.”
Jacques stroked his dark moustache. He thought of
the girl waiting for him. Suddenly, he had no desire
for her after all. “Get rid of the girl in my cabin,
Frenchy. Take her to the hotel and give her money
to buy a fare to wherever she calls home.”
“Oui, I’ll see to it,” replied Frenchy with a sly
grin. It looked like his old friend was falling under
the daughter’s spell. Very interesting. He must have
it bad to refuse the luscious bit he had put in
reserve. Still, Frenchy could understand. It had
always been that way for him once he met Victoria.
Well, Jacques would certainly have his hands full
with that one! He grinned in anticipation.
Morg fell in step beside Kat as they walked back
along the beach. “What is this business you have
with LaSalle,” he asked harshly. He was still
irritated that the girls had disobeyed him…he was
not a man used to being disobeyed. Nor was he a
man used to dealing with women on a man’s terms.
He was also irritated with himself for the effect this
redheaded sprite had on his libido. He found himself
wanting to kiss her senseless…or teach her a
lesson…he didn’t care which order it was.
“Like Frankie said, that’s our business; you had
no right to interfere.” Kat shot him a sideways look.

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They were approaching the Aphrodite, and Pierre
was standing at the railing watching them.
Morg stopped and swung Kat around to face
him. “Let’s get one thing straight here. This is MY
Island, and I am in charge here. I’ll nae tolerate
anyone questioning my orders. Ye start something
here, and I’ll put ye in the brig, man or woman.” His
green eyes snapped sparks. “Is that clear to ye?”
“Perfectly.” Kat jerked her arm out of his hold,
her skin tingling from his touch. With a toss of her
head, she turned her back to him and walked
proudly towards the plank. Feeling his smoldering
eyes on her, she added a bit of sass to her backside
and grinned to herself. That would teach the
arrogant man! If she could only have known what
he was thinking, she would have been most
outraged.
“Where have you two been?” Pierre hissed.
“You’ve been gone over an hour. I was getting
ready to come looking for you.” He looked warily at
Morg, wondering what brought his presence again.
“They were at the slave auction challenging
Jacques LaSalle,” Morg grated. “Not a place for a
woman to be, and I’ve warned ye about starting
anything here. I’ll let it go this time, but next time,
I’ll put someone in the brig.”
“Mon Dieu! Have you both lost your minds?”
Pierre’s voice was harsh with worry. “You were told
to lay low and remain inconspicuous.”
“I’m afraid that would be impossible for two
such woman as these. You’d best keep them aboard
if ye wish to keep them safe. I nae can be
responsible for the actions of my men if they
continue to flaunt themselves about!”
“I knew it,” snapped Pierre, coming down the
plank and seizing the girls by an arm each. He
began to frog march them up the plank and towards
93
94
the cabin. “I knew I should not have let you go
about the docks without me.” He glanced at Gaston
and then dismissed him. He could not blame
Gaston. Frankie was too hell bent on having her
way, he would have been no challenge to her, and
she was bound not to listen to his advice.
“Let go of me, Pierre,” protested Frankie, not
liking being treated this way in front of possible
onlookers as Pierre pushed them inside their cabin.
“I’m the captain of this ship, you can’t march
me around like a recalcitrant little girl!” She tried to
jerk away from him but was unsuccessful.
“What you need is to be turned over a knee and
soundly spanked or bent over the ship’s rail and my
belt applied to your backside,” snarled Pierre, “the
pair of you!”
“You wouldn’t dare,” yelled both girls as he
slammed the door behind him.
“Don’t try me any further, or you will find out
what I dare,” he bit out in exasperation.
Frankie and Kat rubbed the back of their arms
where Pierre’s strong fingers had bitten into them
and returned his glare in silence.
Pierre ran his hands tiredly through his mane of
hair. Finally, he spoke quietly.
“Frankie, I have helped you and Kat to become
very proficient in self defense. I have played with
you both since you were small children, indulged
you as you grew and tutored you for the last five
years in the sword, the knife and the art of hand-to-
hand defense.
“Kat and I have followed you, Frankie, because
you have made this quest the most important thing
in your life. The men follow you because they are
loyal to you, to the family, and to the French
crown.”

95
 He paused a moment to let his words sink in.
“However, ma petite, I fear you have both been
allowed to speak your mind whenever you choose
for far too long. Your skills have made you arrogant,
and you have never known how women are really
treated in the world. I have done my best to protect
you, and you have grown increasingly proud and
consider yourselves undefeatable.”
He walked over to Frankie and cupped her chin
in his palm and gazed sternly down at her. “Not
everyone plays by the rules, something you have
yet to learn. It is plain that Macalister and his kind
are laws unto themselves. And, while you may not
like it, he holds the upper hand here. We have no
choice but for you to do as he says. From now on,
you and Kat are to stay on board until we have a
clear plan of action.”
“No, Pierre,” Frankie finally spoke. “I have an
appointment with LaSalle tonight. He has invited me
to dinner with him on the Nemesis, and we will talk.
He insists I come if I wish to learn anything. I have
no intention of following the whims of Monsieur
Macalister when so much is at stake. I shall keep
that appointment.”
“Not by yourself, you won’t,” exploded Pierre.
But, Frankie knew she was right this time, and it
cooled her anger. “Yes, Pierre,” she spoke softly
then. “By myself. Don’t worry…I will be fine. I sense
that he will not hurt me.” Frankie didn’t know how
she knew, but she knew she was right.
Pierre studied her closely but could see only a
cool determination to follow through. Not the
hotheadedness she had displayed up to this point.
He sighed heavily. “All right, but if you do not return
in a timely manner, I shall come after you if I have
to take the Nemesis apart.”
______________
96
 Morg grinned as Pierre hustled the two women
onto the ship. So, the proud captain and her sister
did get humiliated once in a while. It did his heart
good to see it. He wondered if Pierre would apply
some much needed discipline to their errant
backsides. From the sounds of their heated
protests, he doubted it. They didn’t appear to be
very familiar with the womanly form of discipline
that Morg enforced. They would find out if they
continued to defy his warnings.
He had turned and was striding up the beach to
the auction when Nigor and a compliment of men,
who looked like British soldiers from the English
ship sitting outside the harbor, intercepted him. He
supposed someone else wanted docking. Morg was
instantly wary and concerned when he found out
what they wanted. This would bear careful handling.
“I knew that redhead was going to be trouble the
minute I laid eyes on her,” he muttered to himself,
leading the men to his manor home. “Now it looks
like I’ve got to do something to save her arse
already.”
Just exactly why he needed to do anything was
lost on him at the moment, but he knew he had to.
She had gotten under his skin with one blink of
those disdainful green eyes. Green eyes were a
favorite of his, and he especially liked small
redheaded women with feisty temperaments. Kat
had all three, and he wasn’t about to let her get
away before he had the chance to have her for
himself…for however long he wanted her. It would
be a simple matter to put the British off for a few
days, and then he would deal with Kat and her
sister.
Once in his home, Morg treated the men with
courtesy and discussed the situation
97
 “Surely, ye know, I cannae just turn a ship’s
captain over to ye on a whim. There are details that
have to be worked out. This is supposed to be
peaceful waters in this cove as I’m sure your
Captain well knows. What if the lasses have a
British Lettre de Marquee? If that is true, then your
Captain would look like a fool taking the ship and
the girls into custody.”
The Lieutenant fidgeted uneasily. “I suppose you
have a point, Sir,” he said finally. “These matters
can be quite delicate, of course. However, Admiral
Whitehall was quite adamant. The best I can do is
give you forty eight hours to work out your
governmental logistics here and report back to
Captain Parley of the Hawk. I believe the Raven
with Admiral Whitehall is only a day’s journey
behind us and will soon be here as well.”
Morg nodded solicitously. “Aye, that does seem
fair, and I can work with that deadline.”
The lieutenant took another swallow of the
smooth scotch Morg had given him.
“However, I will impress upon you that we also
have the Satin Lady with us and pulling into guard
position as we speak.”
Morg’s eyes gleamed. “Aye, the lovely Lola I
presume?”
“Yes, indeed.” The lieutenant flashed him a wry
grin. “She has strong desires to return to England
unhampered and a deal as been cut so to speak.”
“Aye, I can understand that.” He supposed Lola
must have offered her services in return for
protection back to England. Now there was an
enterprising wench. Her goods and services always
for sale at the right price. He drained the last of his
drink and stood up, offering his hand to the
Lieutenant. “Until forty eight hours are up, then.”
“Agreed.”
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 Morg ushered them out and returned to his
study, his mind at work. They had given him forty
eight hours to make a decision. Already, an idea
was forming in his mind, but first he needed to put
on a show for the British captain who would be
watching from his vantage point outside the cove. A
gesture of good faith as it were…proof he was doing
something for the British Crown. The girls would not
like it, of course, but that was too bad.
Crossing to his study window, he took out his
spyglass. Yes, he could see the Satin Lady at her
position at the mouth of the cove, opposite the
Hawk. He grimaced.
With those ships guarding the cove, it would
hurt his island business if it kept up too long. If
worse came to worse, he had the power to sink
them, but he’d rather not have to engage one of
England’s finest if it wasn’t necessary. After all, he
had a Lettre de Marquee from the British, and his
Majesty had appointed him governor of this island.
Most of the pirates all flew the flags of various
nations when it suited them. Pirates were always for
hire like mercenaries when the countries were at
war. It seemed France and England were at it once
again. He wondered if Kat and Frankie knew. He
suspected not.
Neither would they know there was a warrant
for their arrest. Captain Parley had recognized the
Aphrodite when he dropped anchor in the harbor
and now wanted to seize the French ship and arrest
the girls
Morg wasn’t ready to give up the little
redheaded wench. He rubbed his chin. Interesting
to know the spitfire was of the nobility. But then he
had known that all along. It had been apparent the
way she had turned up her aristocratic little nose at
him.
99
 He sighed and thought of the bonny green hills
of his home. Who would have thought that the son
of a Scottish laird, heir of one of the richest men in
Scotland would become a bloody pirate? His Uncle
had much to answer for and one of these days…one
of these days he would return and claim his rightful
place. Shaking off the morose thoughts he, turned
swiftly and headed out the door. “Nigor! We have
business aboard the Aphrodite…call some men!”

100
 Chapter Six

The eyes that had watched Frankie and Kat so

avidly in the pub now watched the girls on the
platform with mild interest. His thoughts
wandered. The hotheaded captain would figure
into his plans nicely. He had followed the girls to
the auction and watched the exchange between
LaSalle and the raven-haired beauty. It was plain
to him that LaSalle had an interest in her, himself.
That was all the better. He could put his own
interest in the beautiful captain aside for the
opportunity to use her in his plans for revenge.
A scowl furrowed his brow. LaSalle would pay
for humiliating him! Soon…soon he would own the
Nemesis, and LaSalle’s head would hang from the
prow of his own ship! He would keep watch on this
relationship with his old friend and the woman. Yes,
she just might be the cement he needed to make
his plans work even better.
The man’s interest was peaked when he saw a
blonde headed wench with bold eyes brought
forward by the auctioneer. She was obviously a bar
wench that had been picked up off a dock
somewhere. He waited with anticipation for the
moment the girl’s backside would be exposed.
The man’s male organ hardened when the
auctioneer lifted the tunic off the wench’s arse.
Very nice and just the way he liked it, pale and fully
rounded. Firm, plump globes to play with…his
selection of implements would change their pale
color when the time came. He raised his hand in
the bidding.
Jacques paced restlessly along the deck of the
Nemesis. The auction had finally ended with only a
few fights breaking out…mostly due to the vigilance
of Morg Macalister’s men.
101
 He wondered briefly where Morg had taken off
too and just what his story was. It wasn’t often you
saw educated men in the role of a pirate, but
Macalister was obviously well educated, which
meant there was more to him than met the eye…as
was the case with most men, of course, himself
included.
He dismissed the island governor from his mind,
his thoughts returning to Frankie. He took out the
spyglass and trained it on the Aphrodite, hoping for
a glimpse of her. He knew she would keep her
assignation with him tonight. She had little choice.
It was only a moment of searching the ship
when he was rewarded with the sight of her leaning
over the railing as if deep in thought. Her brow was
puckered, and she had a defiant look on her face.
He let the glass wander idly up and down her figure,
pausing as the wind blew the fine silk shirt to the
side, revealing a creamy swell of breast. He felt
himself growing hard, and he cursed. “Mon Dieu!
What is it about this woman that effects me so?”
He dropped the glass and groaned into the wind.
But, like a bee to the honey, he cursed himself
silently and raised it again.
He had never forgotten the sight of Frankie that
day, her beauty in the white silk dress affecting him
strangely, her breasts pushed slightly above the
corset, her long hair flowing in the wind. There had
been the proud look of defiance, then fear as she
realized pirates were attacking them, and then
shock and horror as Pierre had taken her
overboard.
He had been determined to have her for his own
on that eventful day, but fate had intervened, and
he had lost her. Or, so he had thought. Fate
seemed to have brought them together for the

102
second time, and this time…this time he had no
intention of losing her again.
______________

Jacques came back to the present and was

treated to the sight of Frankie walking away from
the railing, her raven hair falling in waves down her
shapely back and blowing in the wind. Her hips
swayed gently from side to side, and again, he felt
the urge to feel his palm against that sassy flesh.
His throbbing member swelled to giant proportions
as he pictured her sobbing and repentant in his
arms, submissive to his demands. She needed a
few lessons in manners and respect, but there were
other ways he would teach her as well. He shifted
uncomfortably and lowered the glass as she
disappeared from his view.
His gaze slid sightlessly to the murky water
below, beating rhythmic cadences against the side
of the boat. Perhaps I will stay here and throw in
with Macalister, he thought. He’d seen him eyeing
the Nemesis. He chuckled. Macalister wouldn’t be
the first man that had wanted the black ship.
Jacque had been looking for a place to build a
warehouse and set up a base of sorts. Perhaps the
Pirates Hideaway could be that place. He would talk
to Macalister about it soon, very soon. He surveyed
the lush foliage of the island, the clean scent of the
fresh salt water. A man could do worse.
Frenchy brooded as he watched Jacques
watching Frankie. He wondered how much Jacque
was going to tell her.
He, too, remembered that fateful day that had
brought Victoria into his arms. The French
merchant vessel had been a fat partridge just
waiting to be plucked. The galleon had moved

103
ahead of her, as if scornful of any puny efforts to
take the plum it guarded.
The Nemesis had come upon it unexpectedly,
and seeing its plight, had immediately taken
advantage. They had struck and gone before the
lumbering galleon could get into place to fire her
canons.
There had been flames and the screams of dying
men when Frenchy swung aboard and came face to
face with a familiar face…one that had haunted him
for sixteen years. They had met in Paris and fallen
in love, and then she had disappeared.
Disappointed that she never returned, he had finally
left to seek his fortunes elsewhere.
Frenchy had recognized her instantly when he
saw her, and her terrified eyes had burned into his
soul. Throwing caution to the wind, he had slung
her over his shoulder, taking her across to the
Nemesis. When the ship had gone down in flames
as they sailed away, he knew she would never see
whomever she had been traveling with again, and
he had been glad.
When she had finally come to after her faint,
those soft blue green eyes had gazed trustingly up
into his, and she remembered nothing about how
she had come to be on the pirate ship, or whence
she came. It was as if she had always belonged to
Frenchy.
He had protected her fiercely against the crew
who wanted to use her and cast her overboard. It
was bad luck to travel with a woman on board they
had said. But, Frenchy was in love, and she fell in
love with him as well, and she had remained
his…until now. Now, what would happen?
“You know she will have to know,” murmured
Jacques. Frenchy had come to stand beside him on

104
the deck, Jacques intuitively knowing what was
bothering him.
“This, I know,” replied Frenchy heavily. “But
where do I find the strength to let her go if she
chooses to leave?”
“I have rarely seen such a love as Victoria and
you share, my friend. Perhaps you worry too
much.”
“Yes, but we both know that love often falls
behind duty and honor. I don’t even know who she
is, but she is of noble birth, that I do know. I’ve
never cared to find out.” Frenchy’s shoulders
slumped in despair.
“Rumors say the Aphrodite belonged to Lord
Frontenac, of the French court. It may be that
Frankie and Kat are his daughters.”
“Which would make Victoria a duchess,” groaned
Frenchy.
“Don’t borrow trouble, old friend. We don’t
know anything for certain yet.”
“I have sent a missive to Captain Baroque. He
will bring Victoria to the Pirate’s Hideaway for me.
His entourage of ships will insure safe sailing for
her.”
“I know,” responded Jacques, clapping him on
the shoulder. “Take heart, I must get ready for my
assignation with the daughter.”
“You have my sympathies,” chuckled Frenchy.
“Victoria can be spirited and downright ornery at
times, but the daughter…Ohhouuiiieeee! You have
your work cut out for you with that one.”
Jacques’s black eyes lit up, and a dangerous
smile turned the corners of his firm lips upward.
“Yes, but I do enjoy a challenge, and I shall surely
enjoy taming this wench.”
He put the glass up once more and saw
Macalister with a complement of men approaching
105
the Aphrodite. What was going on now? He
wondered. And would it effect their dinner
assignation later on? He hoped not, he was looking
forward to it with great anticipation.
______________

It had been three hours, and the girls had

listened to Pierre’s lectures until they were bored to
tears, and Frankie had finally gone outside to get
some fresh air. She pondered the coming meeting
with LaSalle, her thoughts restless and chaotic as
the wind gently blew her hair away from her face.
She was deep in thought when she saw Morg
Macalister and several armed men coming
purposefully towards the Aphrodite. Now what was
going on? She sighed and pushed away from the
railing to meet them on the other side of the ship.
She was just meeting up with Pierre and Kat when
Gaston rushed up to them.
“Begging your pardon, Monsieur, but it seems
the girls are being put under house arrest. There is
a compliment of men here to escort them to the
Governor’s manor.” He looked concerned as he
glanced hurriedly behind him.
Macalister was approaching with several men at
his side. His green eyes mocked them as he
smiled. “I have warrants here for the arrest of
Katherine and Francesca Fontaine. It seems the
British Government has put a bounty on their
heads. There are two ships at the mouth of the
harbor as we speak, and they don’t plan on leaving
until I’ve turned them over to them.” He handed
Pierre the papers. “As Governor of this island, I
have no choice but to take them into custody.” His
green gaze raked Pierre’s. “If ye cooperate with
me, I shall do all I can to mitigate the

106
circumstances and help if possible.” His green gaze
burned into Kats.
“Let us confer a moment,” Pierre said, his eyes
narrowing as he read the papers. He pulled the
girls aside to speak with them privately before they
did something foolish.
“I don’t believe the British want us,” snapped
Frankie, incensed. “I think he is making that up. I
doubt those papers are legitimate.”
Her fury and indignation spilled over. “And even
if they are legitimate, how can he possibly help us?
If he thinks we are going to turn ourselves over to
him meekly and be taken to his house, he is a fool!
Mon Dieu! What’s to prevent him from kidnapping
us himself, or keeping us captive?”
“I don’t believe him, either,” exclaimed Kat.
“We have merely pricked his pride is all, and he is
looking for a way to get even.” Her green eyes
raked over Macalister’s tall frame scornfully,
dismissing him as unimportant.
Pierre frowned and held his hand up to stem
their protests. “You are not going to be kidnapped
by Macalister. It would serve no purpose. I think
you need to go with him and find out what is going
on. Besides, the British will never take the side of a
pirate against a line of nobility, although I suspect
Macalister is not the ill bred pirate he appears to
be.”
He looked calmly at the girls. “No, we must
keep our heads and go along with Macalister as he
has indicated, especially if these warrants are real.
Don’t worry, I shall send Gaston and a complement
of our men along to wait outside his home and bring
you back here safely.”
Frankie realized Pierre was probably right; Kat
too, had nothing left to say, although her green
eyes flashed indignantly. “Fine,” replied Frankie,
107
“lets get this over with. I have plans tonight!” She
spun on her heel and stalked to within inches of
Macalister, Kat and Pierre right behind her.
“All right, Macalister,” she stated proudly. “You
may have the pleasure of our company for a few
hours. But, I warn you, don’t mess with us, or you
will be sorry.”
She and Kat preceded him down the plank, their
noses in the air and their hands resting on their
swords in challenge to the louts surrounding them.
Morg flushed with anger and tried to hold his
temper in check. “Lord, these be provoking little
madams,” he muttered to himself, itching to lay his
cutlass against their cheeky bottoms as they strode
ahead of him. “One of these days,” he promised
himself.
Frankie’s shoulders were squared, and her nose
disdainfully high in the air as they walked along, her
brilliant eyes flashing with rage and contempt. It
was an outrage, appalling that this man would force
them to his home like this!
Kat, too, was seething as the caravan made its
way up the hill, much to the interest of the
onlookers. Her emerald eyes were constantly aware
of the ogling stares they were receiving. “I have
never been so humiliated, Frankie. This is utter
nonsense. I can’t believe I am actually being forced
into going to his home.”
Frankie glared at Kat and hissed. “Be quiet and
keep your guard up.”
“Frankie, please,” scoffed Kat. “You know I am
a multi talented girl. Keeping my guard up while
plotting murder is a piece of cake!”
Frankie had to smile at Kat’s facetiousness
despite her worry and careful watching for deceit.
Morg opened the door to the manor and let the
girls go in past him with a mocking bow. Leading
108
109
 them into a large room, presumably his study, he
motioned them to sit.
“Please, ladies, have a seat.”
“We’ll stand,” defied Frankie.
Morg seated himself behind the broad desk and
leaned back in his chair. “Fine, suit yourselves.”
He studied them a moment, then commented. “You
know, I overheard your shouting match with Pierre.
I must say, he is a charming chap; one would think
his manners and upbringing would rub off on ye
two.”
The girls did not deign to answer.
He continued, irked with their attitude yet
again. “Lest ye think I am not entirely serious, I
suggest that ye come and look at these
documents.”
Kat and Frankie looked at each other, then
crossed the floor to the huge desk and leaned over
to peruse the documents he had laid out. One was
an official request from Captain Parley of the Hawk
to take the Aphrodite and her crew on behalf of the
British crown for reasons of war crimes. The other
one was a warrant for the arrest of Katherine Adele
and Francesca Fontaine for committing piracy on
the high seas. The girls were to be brought before
the council at Nevis for trial.
Kat was incensed. “We’ve committed no war
crimes! This is an outrage.”
“And the only pirating we have done has been
against other pirates!” Frankie was furious as well.
“These are all trumped up charges…probably by
you!” She stared defiantly at Morg, refusing to
believe her eyes.
Morg’s patience was being sorely tried, but he
remained calm. “Ladies, it may not seem as if you
have committed a war crime, but have you attacked

110
any ships flying under the British flag in your
travels?”
Frankie responded. “We were attacked by three
small British ships a few weeks ago, and we
defended ourselves.” She tossed back her raven
mane impatiently.
“Did you sink all of them?”
“No, one escaped as darkness was falling.”
Morg nodded. “Then, that explains it, he filed a
complaint with the Governor of Nevis for piracy, or
claiming unwarranted French brutality, or perhaps
both. France and England are at war yet again, in
case ye did not know.
“But, they attacked us,” Kat protested furiously.
Morg laughed. “Well, lass, now ye know the life
of a pirate. It makes no difference who attacked
who, the fact is you fly the French flag and were in
battle with British ships at a time of war. It is your
word against the other Captain’s. Ye will not win, of
that ye can be assured. The Hawk knows ye are
here, and Admiral Whitehall of the Raven is a day’s
journey away. I can only forestall them for so
long.”
“War? But France wasn’t at war with England!”
Frankie’s brow was puzzled. “And, LaSalle is
French, too, and flies the French flag as well. Why
aren’t they after him?
“Ye are partially correct, Captain, LaSalle is
French, but he has been sailing here for a long time
and is wise enough to have Lettres de Marquee from
many governments. He never flies the flag of a
nation at war. If you look at the Nemesis today,
she flies the Dutch flag.”
“But…but this isn’t right,” protested Kat hotly.
Morg looked at her with a bit of sympathy. “I’m
aware ye thought I was making this all up, but the
truth is, lasses, that I can assure ye it’s all true. I
111
have forty eight hours to surrender ye, or they will
come and take ye. In case there might be a traitor
or spy on board the Aphrodite, I decided the only
way I could be assured of talking to ye about what
was really going on and possibly save your lives was
to get ye here.” He looked sternly at each of
them. “The show was for Captain Parley so he
would see that I was taking him seriously.”
He stood up and came around the desk to stand
in front of them. “I will not lie to ye, I consider both
of your attitudes unbecoming your stations in life,
and I think what ye both really need is a good old
fashioned spanking. Ye may yet find yourselves
across my knee, but this is not the time for it.
What I’m trying to do is prevent as much bloodshed
as I can on my island. Now, ye go and talk it over
with Pierre and plan on being here tomorrow
evening for supper if ye want my help.”
Frankie and Kat gaped in outrage at Morg’s
casual announcement of a possible spanking.
“Surely you jest, Monsieur,” gibed Kat.
“Spankings are for children!”
“No one lays a hand on us,” snapped Frankie,
right behind her sister.
“I have found a good spanking helps many a
recalcitrant lass become better behaved in half the
time of a lecture,” mocked Morg, his green eyes
gleaming in amusement at their indignation.
Frankie spun on her heel then, ignoring his
derision. “We’ll get back to you on dinner,” she
said, her temper seething. “Come on, Kat.” She
hustled her sister out to where the men were
waiting for them. “We need to talk to Pierre,
quickly.”
“Can you believe he actually threatened to
spank us, Frankie,” retorted Kat, still bristling. But,
she was also remembering the fine set of
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Macalister’s head, the chiseled lips and the broad
shoulders with the powerful muscles. She couldn’t
stop the stirrings of desire yet again. She tried to
shake it off; her desires should be for Mace only.
“Actually, yes I can,” responded Frankie,
thinking of their cousin in France who had told her
of such things. “It seems it happens quite often
with women and men, we have just never had the
dubious experience, and I don’t wish to. I’m glad
our father did not believe in such an atrocity.”
“Well, Mace never threatened to spank me,”
huffed Kat.
“Did you ever cross him?”
“Well, no, not really,” murmured Kat, thinking of
the hours they had spent in each other’s arms.
They had been so intent upon seeing each other
and making sweet love that she had never thought
to have words with him. “Are you saying he might
have?” she asked curiously as they walked along.
Frankie’s voice went to a whisper. “You
remember Snipes?”
Kat giggled in spite of the seriousness of their
predicament. “Who can forget cousin Snipes?”
“Well, he told me that the Lady Amelia crossed
her husband one day with sharp words, and he took
her into his study. Snipes said there is a hole in the
broom closet behind a loose board that looks into
the study, and he went to watch what happened,
being curious, of course.”
“Of course,” chuckled Kat, knowing cousin
Snipes.
“He said Lord Byron flipped up her skirts and
bared her backside over his knee and spanked her
with a hairbrush until she was quite red and
screaming. It was what gave me the idea, really, to
have Uncle Pierre swat me with that paddle to help
me with my training. But only six times! That was
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enough!” She winced, remember the sting and
burn that came from that paddle.
“Mon Dieu,” exclaimed Kat in a hushed whisper.
“Do you suppose it is all that common after all?”
Frankie nodded sagely. “He told me Lord Byron
quite regularly bared the servant girls’ backsides
and laid into them with his strap when they were
remiss in their duties. Said he knew plenty of other
homes where it happened as well.”
“Why would he tell you all this, Frankie?” Kat
asked, her green eyes bright with curiosity.
Frankie had the grace to blush. “Um…well…he
threatened me one day, and I told him if he valued
his life, he would never do such a thing.”
Kat laughed, then, picturing Snipes’ twinkling
eyes and had a hard time imagining him as the
strict, stern deliverer of punishment. “More like a
bit of slap and tickle I would say,” she said
knowingly. She smiled serenely as Frankie looked
curiously at her.
Pierre was waiting at the ship when they
returned. “We have a lot to talk about, Pierre,”
Frankie said. She quickly explained what Macalister
wanted them to do. She also added that she did
not intend to go back to his home the next
evening.
Pierre, however, had other ideas.
“There must be some other way, Pierre,” Frankie
argued. “I don’t want to go to Macalister’s for
dinner. I’m not even sure these documents are
real.”
“I don’t trust him,” echoed Kat, determined to
make Pierre see reason. “Why would he want to
help us?” She paced back and forth, her lip in a
decided pout.

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 “Kat is right, what does he gain by helping us?”
Frankie asked suspiciously. “He doesn’t even know
us.”
Pierre’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “The man
has made a gesture. I’m quite sure there is
something in it for himself, but that is beside the
point at this moment. We have little choice but to
listen to his options. It’s the polite thing to do, and
we might be surprised at what he comes up with.
And, anyway, protocol insists we join him for
supper.”
“Damn protocol,” hissed Frankie, her eyes
turning the deeper green of a tempestuous sea.
“That is not what your parents have taught you,
young lady, and you know it,” snapped Pierre
sternly. “You know how important protocol is
among the court and the gentry. Reputations are
made or broken on protocol!”
Lord, how he itched to turn these two over his
knee and spank some sense into them! But he was
too old to start down that road with them now.
Their future husbands sure had their work cut for
them!
“This is NOT the French court!” snapped Kat.
“It’s a bloody pirate’s island, and we are pirates at
the moment.”
“Just the same, we SHALL attend supper
tomorrow in Governor Macalister’s home as he has
graciously offered.” Pierre rose to his feet, looking
very firm and determined. “Not only that, but you
shall both wear dresses, is that clear, Frankie?” He
turned as she opened her mouth to protest once
again.
“NO! I can’t wear my sword with a dress, and
I’m NOT wearing one, Pierre.” Her eyes stormed
daggers at him.

117
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 Pierre got up and walked to the chest under the
side table and opened it. Picking up the paddle, he
walked back to Frankie and held it up in front of her
face. “I am through talking for now. You are
looking at a man who has reached the limit of his
patience. If you are not on deck at 6:30 sharp,
both of you, in dresses…I shall have Gaston hold
you down over the table while I blister both your
backsides with this, and I won’t stop at six swats.
Do I make myself clear?”
Frankie and Kat looked uneasily at each other,
then back at Pierre. The look on his face was
deadly earnest.
“Perfectly,” they gritted between clenched
teeth. They spun on their heels and walked away
from Pierre, indignation in every step.
Pierre sighed and returned the paddle to the
chest. “What am I going to do with those two?
Gatineu Fontaine, if you were here right now, I
would challenge you to a duel for neglecting their
educations!”

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 Chapter Seven

It was getting on towards dinnertime, and

Frankie was preparing for her meeting with Jacques
LaSalle.
“You are not going to wear a dress, Frankie?”
Kat’s green eyes were amused as she watched
Frankie putting on fresh pants and a clean silk shirt
after her bath. Her raven hair gleamed in the light
from the lantern. It was getting dusk.
“Since when does a man tell me what to do,”
Frankie scoffed. “I’ll dress as I please, and tonight it
will be in my breeches so I can run him through if
he does not give me the answers I seek!”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, I am going alone. This is between him and
me this time.”
She opened the door and walked onto the deck
where Pierre was waiting for her. “I still don’t like
you going alone. I don’t trust LaSalle.” He scowled.
“I’ll be fine, Uncle Pierre,” Frankie replied
placing a kiss on his cheek. “It’s only three berths
down, you can see me from here.”
“You won’t mind if I watch, then, to make sure
you get there safely?” Pierre added silkily. “And you
had better come back safely as well. You have until
ten o’clock before I come looking for you.”
Frankie snorted indelicately. “You know I can
take care of myself, Uncle Pierre. I doubt there is a
man here who can come anywhere close to beating
me.”
Pierre shook his head in fond exasperation. “You
are over confidant, ma petite. You are headed for a
fall. Besides, there are other things that can happen
to you besides losing in a duel, as I hope you are
aware.” He looked sternly at her from beneath
bushy eyebrows.
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 “You worry too much, Uncle Pierre.”
Pierre and Kat watched uneasily as Frankie
made her way down the plank and onto the dock.
“There is one who can beat you easily,” Pierre
muttered darkly under his breath. But that
information he would keep to himself…for now. Only
he and Jacques knew the relationship they had once
shared…he the master…Jacques the pupil. But that
had been years ago. He wondered what had
brought him to this end?
Frankie ignored the looks that came her way as
she walked along the docks, her sword comfortably
at her side, a dagger in her boot. The night air was
silky and tropical, and the water lapped gently
against the pilings. No one challenged her. Whether
it was the brooding look on her face or her
reputation preceding her, she didn’t know or care.
As long as they stayed out of her way, it didn’t
matter what they thought.
Knowing Frankie would not be back for hours,
Kat silently dressed in dark clothing, her daggers in
her boots. She had no intention of sitting around
waiting for her to return. Besides, she had no
doubts but that LaSalle would lie to her sister.
For all her fervor and determination, Frankie
was an innocent in the ways of the world and men.
Kat had seen the lust in LaSalle’s eyes and knew it
for what it was. If he could, he would lure Frankie to
his bed.
Checking to see that the guards were talking to
Pierre, she slid along the back side of the deck and
out onto the moorings, gently slipping down them
until she dropped lightly into the water. Luckily they
were the last berth on the cove, and the shore and
its jungle cover was not far away. Quickly, she
scooted up the beach in a crouch and melted into
the shadows.
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 Morg was standing in the shadows, he too
watching Frankie. Why he should feel concerned
over two lasses who were little more than high-class
chits was beyond him, but he did.
A sudden movement off to his left caught his
eye, and he turned in time to see a figure dressed
in dark clothing disappear into the foliage. It had
been too small to be a man, so the chances were it
was the feisty little hellcat.
He looked back at the Aphrodite and then again
at the spot Kat had disappeared. It looked like
Pierre was waiting for Frankie so he would follow
the other one. Sighing, he stealthily moved through
the undergrowth and picked up her trail.
When Frankie approached the plank to the
Nemesis, the guards moved out of her way like
automatons, and she knew they had been told to
expect her.
“This way,” said a big man with a moustache
and a red scarf around his bald head. He bowed
slightly and studied her intently, his gray eyes
raking her face as if trying to memorize her
features. Frankie thought him strange. “My name is
Frenchy, mademoiselle. It’s a pleasure to meet
you.”
Frankie stared at him, her eyes cold. “Well,
Frenchy, I wish I could say the same, but I can’t,”
she returned frankly.
The daughter does not have the manners of her
mother, thought Frenchy to himself. The little
madam needs a good lesson in deportment…her
mother had surely been remiss, it seemed.
Frenchy kept his thoughts to himself, knowing
Jacques would not give him away until he deemed it
necessary.
“In here,” he replied, bowing slightly and
opening a cabin door.
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 Frankie did not bother to thank him, but stepped
proudly inside. The door shut behind her, and she
scanned the room. Jacques LaSalle rose from a
table laden with delicious looking food and tall
tapers flickering in the middle of it.
“Good evening, ma petite,” he said courteously,
reaching for her hand. His gracious tone belied his
displeasure at her blatant disobedience in not
wearing a dress.
“Save it,” Frankie snapped, jerking her hand
away. Her breath seemed short, and her hand
tingled where he had touched her. He was looking
very handsome, his dark eyes gleaming and his
black hair tied back at the neck. He wore tight
fitting black breeches that outlined the heavy
muscles of his thighs. The dark mustache was
neatly trimmed above well-shaped lips that smiled
amusedly at her reaction. The air felt close,
suddenly, and she scowled heavily at him.
Jacques’s dark gaze slid lazily up and down her
trim figure. There was no doubt her lovely body was
well defined in the men’s clothing she wore, but he
preferred beautiful dresses that enhanced a
woman’s feminine charms. “So, you did not wear
the dress. I AM disappointed,” he said smoothly.
“Such defiance in one so beautiful. What am I to do
with you?” His fingers stroked his mustache almost
absentmindedly.
Frankie drew her sword and placed it against his
pristine white shirt with the lacy collar falling down
the front, the tip slightly piercing the fine cloth.
“You will do nothing with me save answer my
questions or feel my steel through your heart.”
He lifted a hand and moved the tip aside gently.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s bad manners to
point your weapon at an unarmed man?” he asked
dangerously, his dark eyes glinting with anger.
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 “I care naught for what others say,” mocked
Frankie as she moved the sword back above his
heart. The challenge thrown, Frankie waited, her
eyes disdainful of his words.
Jacques deliberately stepped closer, leaning into
Frankie’s drawn sword, feeling the tip of it prick his
skin. When the white shirt began to show a spot of
red, Frankie’s eyes were drawn to that spot. Then
they slid back up to be locked with his, will against
will.
“Go ahead, ma cherie, drive the sword through
me. Go ahead, what’s stopping you?” Jacques
taunted her. His lips drew back in an almost cruel
smile as he watched her carefully, sure she would
not be able to cold-bloodedly kill him. Not many
women could. It wasn’t that they lacked courage,
he knew, but it was because it went against the
innate goodness of the fairer sex.
Frankie hesitated, and he knew he was right, the
knowledge making him glad. However, she needed
to know if she was going to play a man’s game, she
had better be prepared for such decisions when
facing a real enemy.
Jacques reached down with his hand and moved
the sword aside. “Bah, never hesitate, ma cherie!”
His other hand wrapped in her long curls and pulled
her to him with such force that when their bodies
met; some of the air left her lungs.
He held her firmly as his lips swooped down to
capture hers. Deliberately, he took her sweet lips,
finally tasting the nectar he had long desired. It was
well worth the wait.
The sword clattered to the floor as Frankie
fought furiously against his hard length, her rosy
lips trembling beneath his mouth. Her senses swam,
and she finally leaned into him and for a brief
moment, she kissed him back. A sweet melting
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127
 surrender threatened to engulf her, and then,
suddenly, she was free.
Breathing heavily, her hand shot out quick as a
flash and slapped him across the face hard enough
to bring a trickle of blood to the corner of his
mouth. She stared at him, her face flushed with
anger.
“That was not wise, ma petite,” he said as his
own hand shot out and grabbed her arm.
“What, now,” she spat, “rape and torture, like
you did my mother?”
“No, ma cherie, I’m going to do what Lord
Frontenac should have done a long time ago.” He
dragged her to the chair and sat, pulling her across
his lap until she landed with a surprised oomph, her
pert hindquarters high in the air. He began to spank
her hard with his broad palm, the sound
reverberating through out the cabin.
Frankie kicked and screamed with rage as his
hand cracked over and over along her upturned
bottom. She twisted and fought desperately to
escape the burning chastisement, but his left hand
quickly found a handful of her beautiful hair,
effectively holding her in place. Quickly, he put his
right leg over hers, pinning her in place over his
knee, her writhing cheeks strategically located for
his correction. The spanking continued relentlessly.
“You descend from royalty, yet you act like a
common street urchin,” he lectured as he worked.
“You assume and presume certain rights, yet have
never learned discipline.”
His words were getting a bit labored, his arm
tiring as he continued the fierce blows, each one
bruising the virgin skin on her tender buttocks. The
blows came harder and faster as he finished. “Your
carelessness will be the death of you, just as it was
your father.” With that sentence he stopped.
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 It took a monumental effort for Frankie to avoid
bursting into humiliating tears. Only her anger
fueled her determination and kept them at bay even
though the pain was excruciating.
He released her, and the mention of her father
caused her to spring to her feet and pummel him in
the chest with her fists.
“Murderer!” she screamed, “You killed them. If
it’s the last thing I do, I will see you in hell!”
He grabbed her fists, holding them against his
chest as he came to his feet. She struggled wildly
against him.
“No, Frankie, I have murdered no one. And, I
know your mother very well. She is alive.”
Frankie went stone still at that announcement,
her breasts heaving, her breath coming in ragged
gasps. “Where is she? Tell me!”
“As I said in my earlier invitation, we have much
to talk about, but I will only speak to the daughter
of Lady Frontenac, not a street urchin pirate. Return
in the dress as I commanded; act like the lady you
are, and THEN we will talk.” He released her.
______________

Kat felt a sense of freedom and heaved a big

sigh of relief as she followed the shoreline under the
trees until the ship was out of sight around the
curve, and then she stepped out into the moonlight.
Checking around her carefully, she could see the
beach was deserted, the settlement being left
behind. Quietly, she stood at the water’s edge,
letting the soothing sounds of the surf wash over
her boots. Her thoughts were bitter.
Their gentle mother was dead…just like their
father. Kat’s heart twisted in pain. How she missed
them both, but her father most of all. Sometimes,
she wished she had been with them on that fated
130
journey. Sometimes, she wished she had died with
them, but it had been Frankie’s burden to be there.
Dear, sweet Frankie, who had changed so after
that horrible day. She had become driven to look for
their mother, fueled by revenge and a hatred that
burned deep for the man who had done this to
them.
Kat didn’t know where she was going; she just
knew she needed to get away from the ship, to
stretch her legs, to be free. She continued on until
the beach ended, and a path led up through the
undergrowth. She took it.
Following Kat, It was only a few minutes before
Morg saw her standing at the surf’s edge, just
staring at the water. Lost in thought, he supposed.
He felt a kinship with her for her apparent need for
solitude. It happened to him all the time; still…she
should not be out here alone.
He continued to follow her, keeping back when
he saw her stop and turn, as if startled by
something. Her movements were stealthy and
graceful, just like a cat. He grinned, thinking her
nickname very appropriate for her.
As she disappeared into the foliage at the sand’s
edge, he knew it would only be a moment before
she discovered the clear pool in the glade. His heart
beating rapidly, he followed.
Sure enough, as he quietly approached, he could
see her sitting on a large boulder at the side of the
moon washed water. It was a favorite spot of his,
too.
______________

As Frankie slammed the door behind her,

Jacques poured himself a glass of wine, shaking out
his throbbing hand. He had intended to teach her a

131
lesson, and he hoped her inability to sit comfortably
for a few days might get through to her.
Little did she know it, but she had confirmed the
information given him that the Duke of Frontenac
had owned the Aphrodite; and her own parentage
as well. Which did indeed make Frenchy’s wife the
Duchess of Frontenac!
“Come,” he said in response to the knock at his
door. When Frenchy stepped inside, he waved him
to the table. “Come, eat. We have much to talk
about.”
Frenchy grinned, his swarthy face amused. “I
take it the lady did not appreciate your culinary
efforts?”
Jacques had actually had the dinner made up,
striving to serve things that might appeal to
Frankie’s feminine palate. She hadn’t even looked at
the food. “We never got that far,” grinned Jacques
in return, “but it was still an imminently satisfying
exchange. At least, for me.”
“Her loss is my gain,” chuckled Frenchy, and he
began to eat with relish.
______________

Kat sat staring at the scene before her, her

troubled thoughts pushed aside for the moment. It
was a hauntingly lovely scene. The surface of the
pool was aglow with moonlight, and fresh water
trickled and gurgled off the ledges of shale and rock
that led upstream, emptying into what could be a
perfect bathing and swimming area.
It looked deliciously cool and inviting, and Kat
could not resist its call. Standing up, she began to
take off her clothes.
Morg’s breath hissed in as he watched Kat
beginning to disrobe, her movements almost
languid as if she were enjoying the mere act. Soon,
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she had peeled off the shirt, breeches and boots
and was standing there in only a white, thin, one-
piece chemise. Her red gold curls were burnished in
the heavenly light, and she ran her arms beneath
them, lifting them up and letting them fall back to
tumble about her tiny waist.
He hadn’t even realized he was holding his
breath until she began to peel the delicate fabric
from her shoulders, her movements unconsciously
sensuous. Her pert breasts sprang forth, their rosy
buds at attention in the slight night wind, and then
she pushed the garment down over her rounded
hips and finally off her feet.
Casting it aside, she stood there like a pagan
goddess in the moonlight, and Morg was entranced.
She lifted her arms and twirled slowly around in a
full circle as if she were aware of his presence and
wanted to show herself off to him. She couldn’t
know he was there, though, and he was
mesmerized as she danced before the man in the
moon.
His breath came fast and hard; his now swollen
manhood throbbing painfully. Never had he seen
such perfection in one so small and tiny. Her
breasts were lush, and her ribcage tapered to a
narrow waist from which the full hips flared out and
then slimmed back down to slender thighs and on
down to shapely calves and ankles.
She was exquisite, her alabaster skin gleaming
as she stepped forward and dabbled her dainty toes
in the water, testing its coolness. His blood roared
in his ears, and he longed to peel off his clothing
and join her, take her, make her his own. He held
himself back, though.
As a pirate, he had come to enjoy taking what
he wanted, when he wanted it and not looking back.

133
But there was something about this sprite that set
his danger signals on alert.
It was in that moment that Morg realized it was
exactly this girl that had been making him uneasy
all day yesterday and last night. He wasn’t much of
a believer in pre-arranged destiny, but this girl was
going to figure in his life. He didn’t know how, but
he knew it as sure as he knew he was standing
there.
That is, if he didn’t strangle her first for the
disobedient, haughty chit that she was! He stepped
out of the jungle covering and stood gazing at her
in the water, waiting for her to notice he was there.
______________

It had barely been an hour before Frankie came

storming up the plank of the Aphrodite, her
expression like a thundercloud.
Pierre had been pacing back and forth, although
he had been certain she would be gone for several
hours yet. “What happened?”
“I found out that Mother is alive,” Frankie
snapped trying to keep her hands away from her
flaming, throbbing bottom. She didn’t need to be
further humiliated.
“And?” Pierre probed gently, elated at the news.
“And, nothing! If I want to know more, I have to
put on the dumb dress and go back.”
“Well, get to it,” Pierre urged.
“No,” she said as she walked stiffly towards her
cabin. “I’m not going back tonight.”
She just wanted to get away from Pierre before
she did something stupid like burst into tears. Her
bottom ached and burned, and she wanted to find
her cream and soothe it.

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 Pierre looked suspiciously at her. Her eyes were
awfully bright, and her voice a bit wobbly. He
stopped her and turned her to face him. “What
happened, ma petite?” he asked softly.
Frankie stared up at him in the moonlight,
willing herself not to cry…not yet. It was a fruitless
battle in the face of Pierre’s sympathy, however,
and she found tears leaking down her face. “He…he
spanked me, Uncle Pierre,” she said at last, giving
way to sobs. She tried to pull away and get inside
her cabin where she could be ashamed in private,
but her Uncle pulled her into his arms.
He held her as she tried to choke back the sobs
and rubbed her back soothingly. “There now, ma
petite,” he said comfortingly.
Pierre suspected there was more she was not
telling him, but Frankie was a very private person.
He was amazed, however, at her admission…and
worried. The sparks between her and Jacques had
not gone unnoted, and he wondered what was going
on in Jacques’s mind.
He couldn’t help a small glimmer of satisfaction
that Frankie had gotten a spanking. She had
certainly been in need of one, and it looked like it
brought her down a peg or two.
However, men usually spanked women they had
a vested interest in or cared about in some way.
Had Jacques just been trying to humiliate her? Was
there something more going on? And what was the
son of a French nobleman doing commanding a
pirate ship?
He sighed as he watched Frankie turn away and
go to her cabin. There certainly were a lot of
mysteries here at the Pirates Hideaway!

136
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 Kat was thoroughly enjoying herself, her sinuous
body cleaving through the water with ease and
agility. Her father had always said she reminded
him of a cat with the natural grace she possessed.
She cavorted and played, coming up from
beneath the water and flinging her hair back out of
her eyes. When she rubbed the water from them,
the first thing she saw was Morg Macalister standing
at the water’s edge, watching her.
“Merde,” she muttered to herself. “How did I get
so lucky?”
Morg curled a big finger at her, indicating she
was to get out of the water.
Kat arched a sardonic eyebrow at him and
stayed where she was, her breasts barely covered
by the warm silky liquid.
“Don’t make me come in there after ye, lass,”
Morg said sternly. “Ye are not supposed to be out
here. Luckily, I saw ye leave the ship and followed
ye.”
“Yes, lucky me,” echoed Kat sarcastically. “Why
don’t you just pretend you never saw me and go
back the way you came,” she called sweetly. “I’ll
pretend I never saw you.” She lowered her voice to
mutter under her breath again. “Which won’t be
hard to do.”
Morg heard the muttered comment that carried
over the water, and he growled low in his throat. So
she was going to be difficult. Had he expected any
less?
Kat grew alarmed when Morg began to
methodically peel off his boots, then his breeches
and was starting on his shirt when Kat began to
back up. “What do you think you are doing?”
“Ye won’t come out, lass, so I’m coming in.”
“Don’t you dare!” Kat stared, fascinated as he
threw the shirt aside, his muscles rippling beneath
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their bronze covering. She could see the huge
erection in his shorts, and she felt desire lick along
her veins. She didn’t want to like anything about
the odious man!
As he started into the water, she moved like a
fish and swam for the other side. Morg swam to cut
her off, but he wasn’t quite fast enough. Like
quicksilver, she was out of the water and racing
around the edge of the pool towards her clothing.
Morg swore and turned around, slicing through
the water to get back before she did. But, Kat
grabbed her clothes and boots and ran into the
jungle just as Morg came out, the water sluicing off
his body.
He grabbed his pants and yanked them on, and
as he was reaching for his shirt, a pearl handled
dagger cut into it, pinning it to the sand. He looked
up in time to see Kat, already in her shirt and
pulling her pants onto her slender legs. Her green
eyes were mocking him.
He pulled the dagger from the shirt and shook
the sand out of it and then yanked it on. Grabbing
his boots, he looked up long enough to see she was
gone. With a muttered oath, he swept them on and
grabbed the rest of his things, following her quickly.
She was in for a long hard spanking when he caught
up with her!
Kat flew along the trial, not bothering to stop
and put her boots on. She knew she didn’t have
time before Morg’s long legs would eat up the
distance behind her. She ran like the wind, clutching
the front of her shirt together with one hand and
holding her boots in the other.
Panting, she didn’t even stop when she came to
the Aphrodite, but ran straight on up the plank
much to the amazement and shock of Pierre. She
flew past him and the guards and straight to her
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cabin, not even looking back. Once inside, she
slammed the door and leaned against it, breathing
heavily. Impulsively, she turned again and slammed
the board down that locked the door.
Then she flopped down into a chair, breathing
hard, but triumphant. She hadn’t been able to resist
showing off her knife throwing ability. Kat smiled
smugly in spite of her fast beating heart, very
pleased with herself. That would teach the arrogant
pirate to mess with her!
Pierre was looking after Kat in consternation
when he saw Morg Macalister running down the
beach towards the Aphrodite. It was only a few
seconds before he was at the plank, scowling up at
him. “What’s going on here?” snapped Pierre, still in
shock. “Are you accosting my niece?”
“Not yet I haven’t.” Morg was seething. “But I’m
sure going to accost her arse before long,” he said
harshly. “I caught her sneaking off ship and
followed her. She decided to go bathing and when
she refused to come out of the water on my order, I
followed her in. She escaped me, however, but not
without leaving her calling card in my good shirt!”
He held up the shirt with the slit in it and the
pearl handled knife. “Ye obviously need better
guards, if they can allow a slip of a girl to get away
from them undetected.” He threw the knife and
Kat’s chemise that she had left behind onto the
deck of the Aphrodite and stalked away.
Pierre could read between the lines as well as
anyone, and for the second time that evening, felt
very worried! It was plain to him that Kat held some
interest for this Macalister.
He sighed heavily. He was too old for this, and
having never had any children of his own, especially
girls, he was at a loss as to what to do. He couldn’t
keep them locked up forever. Fate had intervened in
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the normal progression of their lives…hell…all of
their lives! He paced restlessly back and forth,
staring at the cabin door.
By normal rules, the girls would be married by
now and settled down with husbands and children of
their own. They had had their coming out ball at
sixteen, just before their parents had been killed.
In fact, Kat had been courted by Mace
Delarouge, son of Lord and Lady Delarouge, the
Duke and Duchess of Aquataine. It had been
assumed they would become betrothed, but she had
given it up to follow Frankie.
Pierre snorted in disgust. Now here she was
running around half naked from a handsome
Scottish, pirate governor in the Caribbean, who was
probably of the Scottish nobility, or at the least, the
gentry.
And, Frankie had just been spanked by another
pirate rogue; also nobility in disguise and who
obviously had his eye on her! How was he supposed
to protect them when they didn’t even try to protect
themselves!
“Mon Dieu,” he muttered throwing his hands in
the air. “Only one day in port and look at what has
happened.” He looked up to the heavens in vexation
and prayed, “May you protect them when I fail!”

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 Chapter Eight

The next morning, Pierre made his way along

the docks to the plank of the Lady Princess.
“Permission to come aboard,” he called to Morg.
“Permission granted,” Morg replied cautiously,
his green eyes glittering in the sunlight.
Pierre walked up the plank and stopped in front
of Morg, looking around him with unfeigned
interest. “We have given your proposal of dinner
tonight some thought and decided to accept it.
We’d like to hear what you have to say, that is if
you are still interested in helping the girls after last
night.” He studied Morg intently.
“Where is Captain Frankie and Kat this
morning?” probed Morg. He was still angry with
Kat.
“Frankie is…indisposed,” Pierre said delicately, a
broad grin lighting up his face in spite of himself.
“Seems she is having a hard time sitting this
morning, and it is making her quite grouchy. Kat is
very indignant on her behalf, of course, so I
deemed it necessary that I should be the liaison to
convey our wishes.”
Morg’s eyes narrowed. “Kat may soon find
herself suffering the same malady.”
Pierre warred with himself. On one hand, he
couldn’t blame Macalister; on the other hand, he
felt he should defend his niece. Finally, he spoke.
“Look, Macalister, you need to know that Kat and
Frankie are my nieces. I don’t know what your
intentions are towards Kat, but I would personally
appreciate anything you can do to help us out of
this mess.”
“Thank ye for telling me, I didn’t know that,”
Morg replied, his eye’s narrowing. “It still doesn’t
change anything between Kat and I. The only
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intention I have at present for your niece is to put
her over my knee and blister her arse.”
“While I can appreciate your desire, I can’t in
good conscience condone it,” said Pierre
courteously.
“Well, are you going to?” Morg stared hard at
him.
“I suppose I should,” agreed Pierre, “but I’m
afraid I’ve put it off so long now that I can’t bring
myself to do it. They are both willful girls, and their
husbands shall have their work cut out for them,
I’m afraid.”
At the mention of Kat having a husband, Morg’s
insides gave a queer leap. He didn’t like the sound
of that, he realized. He tried to brush the thought
aside. He was certainly in no position to offer Kat
anything. “Is she betrothed?”
“Who? Kat?”
“Aye,” growled Morg impatiently. Who else had
they been discussing?
“No, monsieur, she is not yet betrothed. But it
was thought she soon would be when we left
France. I don’t know if that opportunity will still be
waiting when we get back.” His eye’s twinkled
knowingly.
“Why are you here? What is your business with
LaSalle?” Morg was curious by this time, as to
exactly what was going on. “And call me Morg.”
Pierre studied the younger man before him.
“Thank you…Morg. I’m afraid our business with
LaSalle is personal. But we shall endeavor to keep
it from affecting the entire harbor.”
Morg nodded, understanding his reticence. The
fewer who knew a man’s business, the better off the
man was. He could respect that. He played his
own cards close to his vest.

143
 “Aye, I can accept that.” He studied Pierre
intently.
“So what’s a man like you doing in a place like
this?” Pierre asked curiously.
“Like you, I’m afraid that’s personal,” replied
Morg, smiling evenly. “But, come, I’ll show you
around the Lady Princess.”
“I’d like that,” murmured Pierre.
Frankie paced the floor restlessly. The sun was
just coming up, and she was no nearer to peace of
mind than she had been when she left the Nemesis
last night. Her backside ached, and sitting was very
uncomfortable. She was tired yet could not rest.
She groaned when she remembered her
behavior of the night before. She had been
outraged when LaSalle had kissed her. Her fingers
touched her lips, remembering how she had fought
him to no avail.
Then she had found herself responding…his hand
in her hair, his lips taking possession of hers; she
had felt like she was slowly drowning…losing the will
to resist. God help her, she had kissed him back…a
licking flame racing through her blood, her nipples
hardening in response to the pressure of his hard
chest against hers.
When he had suddenly released her, she had put
all her resentment and anger at herself and him into
a heartfelt slap across his face. It had brought
blood. It had brought something else as well.
Those six spanks from the paddle she had given
Pierre permission to wield were nothing compared
to the punishment she had received at LaSalle’s
hard hand. It had taken all her resolve not to give
in to tears before he had finally let her up, her butt
burning like fire and throbbing painfully. She had
fled, his demand to return as he had ordered in the
first place ringing in her delicate ears.
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145
 Frankie’s pride had taken a major blow, and she
cringed at the thought of herself, an established
ship captain, a ruler of men, reduced to the status
of a punished child with a spanking to her backside.
She fumed and fretted as her thoughts whirled
chaotically. He would pay for the indignities she
had suffered!
Frenchy’s knowing grin as she left the cabin, the
men all hiding smiles behind their hands as she
strove to leave with her dignity in shreds. They
must have heard her yelling and, she was sure her
face had been the same color as her bottom cheeks
had been when she inspected them later. She
flushed just thinking about it!
Jacques had said their mother was alive,
though! Kat didn’t believe him. She wasn’t sure if
she believed him either, but she couldn’t afford not
to take him seriously if there was any chance at all
that he was not lying.
Pierre had wanted her to return to LaSalle last
night, but pride had forbid it. As badly as Frankie
wanted news of her mother, she could not bring
herself to swallow her pride and follow his orders.
She would humble herself and come dressed as
he requested…soon. Just not right now. She bit
her lip so hard it bled. “Merde,” she muttered.
“That man has a lot to answer for.
She should have run him through when she had
the chance! Little did she know how much she
resembled a sulky child as she rubbed her abused
cheeks absentmindly, her lower lip in a decided
pout.
Morg was just finishing his ablutions when
Rosalie appeared to let him know that his dinner
guests were there. It had been an enlightening
day. Things began to be a little clearer after the
time he had spent with both Pierre and Jacques.
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147
 Jacques had told him a little more then Pierre
did, but both men were very closemouthed.
He gazed ruefully in the mirror, realizing he was
getting pulled into this whole thing whether he
wanted to or not. And mostly because of a certain
green-eyed witch that had him thinking things he
had no right to think. He turned and strode out of
the bedroom. It was time to meet his reluctant
guests.
Joining the dinner party in the sitting room,
Morg apologized. “Pierre, lasses, I’m sorry to keep
you waiting.”
“Think nothing of it, Morg,” Pierre replied
graciously. The girls glared at him. They were both
present, both in dresses…and both there under
duress.
“So just how do you propose to help us,
Monsieur Macalister?” Kat asked mockingly. She
was remembered him chasing her last night, and
she was very proud of herself for getting away.
Morg placed his hand over her small one,
amused when she pulled away with a small hiss.
“All in good time, little lass, first we eat.”
Rosalie and Alyssa had prepared quite a
sumptuous repast, complete with wild boar, island
fruits and fresh bread. The conversation was fairly
stilted, but they managed to keep it respectful,
even if it was forced at times.
Finally, they retired to Morg’s study where he
offered Pierre a fine cigar. Frankie could stand it
no longer, and she blurted out, “Okay, Macalister,
we’ve done the meal and the small talk, now tell us
what’s going on.”
“Such impatience,” he mocked, as he walked to
the sliding door off his library. He opened it, and
Jacques LaSalle stepped into the room. “Jacques,
will ye tell them or should I?”
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149
 Jacques stepped forward and bowed over
Frankie’s hand, lifting it to bestow a kiss on the
palm. Never taking his eyes from her, he replied.
“By all means, you tell them, Morg, it was your plan
after all.”
Frankie jerked her hand away from Jacque, her
palm tingling where his moustache had tickled the
sensitive skin. She stared up at him with angry
eyes, her temper seething below the surface, and
her bottom protesting his presence.
Kat jumped up and hotly protested. “What is he
doing here? I’m not staying in the room with
this…this…murderer!”
“Ye will sit down, lass…NOW!” replied Morg in a
voice like velvet steel, “while ye still have the ability
to sit.”
Frankie flushed at that comment, and Pierre
pulled Kat down by the hand. “Behave, Kat, and
listen. It’s what we came for after all.”
Morg gave Kat a hard stare and continued. “I’ve
been given reliable information that a Spanish Fleet
is to be passing within fifty miles of The Hideaway.
The fleet is made up of two galleons and four
frigates. It is said they are carrying enough gold
and jewels for a king’s ransom, and Jacques and I
intend to relieve them of it.” His emerald eyes
glistened with anticipation.
“If we pulled the Nemesis, the Aphrodite, the
Lady Queen, the Lady Princess, plus the two smaller
frigates I took from Calico Jack, we could take on
those six Spanish ships easily. We would have
enough wealth to share between us all and plenty
for the building up of our Hideaway here. Jacques
and I want to know if ye want to throw in with us?”
“But that’s piracy!” declared Kat heatedly before
Pierre could shush her.

150
 Morg winked at her. “That’s what we do, little
lass.”
Frankie was busy contemplating. “But how does
this help keep us out of the British hands?”
“Ye would need to lower your French flag and
take a British Lettre de Marquee from me. I know
of your loyalty to the French flag, but if ye try to sail
from this harbor with it on your rigging, they will
sink ye…and Admiral Whitehall himself is here now,
we don’t have much time. I have to give them an
answer by morning.”
Jacques spoke up. “The Raven is quite capable
of sitting outside the harbor and picking us all off
one by one.”
Morg nodded. “Yes, seventy eight fourteen
pound nautical guns and around three hundred
sailors. They would sink either of my ships before I
could ever leave the dock.”
Morg was amused at Frankie and Jacques, at the
way their eyes kept drifting to one another. There
was a smoldering tension between those two that
filled the room, and he wasn’t sure if it was hate,
lust or both.
“Are you saying they are offering us this letter?”
asked Frankie.
“No, I’m saying I will give ye the letter, and it
will be as if ye had it all along. Do I make myself
clear?” He stared meaningfully at his three guests.
“Why would you do this for us?” Kat asked
suspiciously. She didn’t trust either of these two
pirates, and she didn’t mind letting them know that
fact.
“Because I need ye,” he answered baldly. “The
Aphrodite out guns any of the ships we have, and
she would help insure us a victory.”
“So this is blackmail,” sneered Kat. “Either help
you, or you will turn us over to them.”
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 Morg responded silkily. “I prefer to think of it as
ye scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours.” The
little green-eyed imp didn’t need to know he would
never turn her over, but it pleased him to let her
think him without scruples. It was better than
having her think he had any honest intentions
towards her. In the position he was in, he had no
right.
“I knew you were nothing but a filthy pirate,”
spat Kat, strangely disappointed.
Morg’s lips tightened, but he did not answer her.
“When do you require an answer?” Pierre asked
thoughtfully.
“Ye have until dawn to debate the issue. I will
send Admiral Whitehall my answer by noon
tomorrow. We set sail at sundown tomorrow
evening, with or without the Aphrodite.”
“Very well,” Pierre replied, standing up. “We
shall discuss it, and you shall have your answer
tomorrow morning.” The girls stood up too.
Jacques crossed to Frankie and looked down into
her eyes. “Adieu, ma Cherie, until we meet again.”
He badly wanted to kiss those rosy lips that were
curling in disdain, but he refrained.
Without a word, Frankie turned away, her heart
beating fast and followed Kat and Pierre. Outside,
she turned to her Uncle. “Perhaps I should go to his
ship, since I am wearing the dress…” she trailed off,
watching Jacques’s tall frame stride down the hill
with his men.
“No, ma petite,” replied Pierre, “we have
decisions to make that are going to concern the rest
of our lives. We have no choice but to settle this
first.”
Frankie nodded, and it was a grim trio that
returned to the Aphrodite and settled in the cabin
around the Captain’s table.
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 “Well, Frankie, it looks like we are being invited
to become real pirates,” murmured Kat as she took
her seat. For some reason the idea intrigued her,
and she laughed in delight.
“Kat, we are not really pirates, and you know it,”
snapped Frankie, her eyes flashing.
“We are being hunted as such, whether we are
or not,” interjected Pierre thoughtfully. “Not much
chance now of escaping retribution, however
unfair.”
“But we have been hunting pirates,” Frankie
pointed out yet again, “not joining them. And we
still have one to go!”
Kat turned to Frankie and spoke fiercely. “You
know we have taken out other ships because they
attacked us, even when they weren’t pirate ships,
Frankie. We have blood on our hands now, just like
LaSalle and Macalister. Even if it was in self-
defense; they wouldn’t see it that way. They would
have us before a tribunal quicker than you can
blink.”
“I fear Kat is right. I can’t see our way clear to
going back to our old life without severe
consequences. I intend to think more on it, but I
believe my mind is made up. I’m for joining with
Macalister. At least mercenaries allow one to work
for whatever country you wish, it seems, or several
at the same time. It’s by far the best solution to
come and go as we please, flying whate ver flag
relevant to the place we are in, including the pirate
flag.”
“Even if he is blackmailing us?” Frankie was
incensed.
“I don’t believe for a minute he will turn us
over,” Pierre replied evenly, staring at Kat. “Do
you, Kat?”

153
 Kat blushed. “Let’s just say I have my doubts,
but you never know. He doesn’t have the
reputation he does for nothing, and I intend to treat
him as the blackguard he is, anyway,” she sniffed
and tossed her red hair over her shoulder.
“A blackguard you would do well to heed, ma
petite,” interjected Pierre sardonically. “He is busy
at the moment, but when he has time to
concentrate on you, I can see you getting the same
treatment Frankie got last night.” He smiled grimly.
“He touches me and I’ll kill him,” vowed Kat
fervently, “even if I have to wait until he’s
sleeping.”
The trio continued to discuss the issue until well
into the morning hours, and it was finally agreed
that they would join Macalister, for lack of better
options. They all agreed that finding the girls’
mother was still a driving priority, but at present,
surviving was their first.
Once beyond the current pressing problem, they
could then concentrate their efforts again on
Victoria Fontaine.
“It is decided, then,” Pierre spoke heavily, their
decision uncomfortable, yet seeing no alternative.
“I shall inform Morg of our plans at dawn.”
When the sun came up, he made his way to the
Governor’s mansion, deep grooves of tiredness
etching his face. When Rosalie ushered him into
Morg’s study, he spoke hoarsely. “We will join
you.”
“Are ye sure, Pierre?” growled Morg studying the
older man intently. “Ye need to be very sure that
the girls are behind ye. I will nae stand for
betrayal.”
Pierre nodded. “You have my word as a French
gentlemen. That’s all you need.”

154
 “Aye, it had best be,” Morg replied. “Your life
depends on it.”
Pierre studied Morg tiredly. “You cannot
seriously think I believe you would turn Kat over?”
Morg hesitated. “Perhaps not, Pierre, but I can
assure ye that none of ye would like the
consequences should ye betray me.”
Pierre nodded again. “Oui, Monsieur, that I can
believe.”
Morg handed him the Lettres de Marquee
required and the flags needed, his instructions crisp
and clear. “Post the British colors, and I will send
word to Admiral Whitehall. Tell the lasses to get
some rest…we sail at sunset.”
“Oui, Monsieur,” replied Pierre. As he strode
back down the hill, his thoughts were pensive. “I
guess we are pirates now, for better or worse,” he
muttered to himself. Once again he sent a prayer
heavenward that it would be for the better…and
over soon!
Jacques was on deck enjoying the brisk morning
as the crew went about their business of preparing
the Nemesis for the sea. He tied his black hair in a
small ponytail at the back of his neck and called for
Frenchy.
Looking over at the Aphrodite, he saw the
English flag raised high on her masts. Well, he had
his answer. Looked like Frankie was joining them.
That flag must have made her seethe as much as
the “lesson in discipline” he had applied to her firm
young buttocks.
“You called, Mon Capitan,” Frenchy said jovially,
coming up to greet Jacque. It felt good to be
getting back to sea again. Seeing the British ships
pulling away cheered him as well. They would be
long gone before the pirate fleet set sail tonight.

155
 “Oui, Frenchy. I wanted to speak with you. I
want you to take the helm of the Bandit tonight. I
want you to protect the Aphrodite. For all her guns,
she is still slower than the frigates.”
“Consider it done, my friend.”
Memories of Frankie flashed through Jacques’s
mind, the kiss; the feel of her breasts against his
chest and then spilling over his knee, her tight
stomach against his thigh and the curve of her
bottom against his hand. He felt his pants
tightening uncomfortably, and he shook his head to
clear it, breathing deeply of the fresh salt air.
“Focus, LaSalle, or it will be you on the briny
bottom,” he muttered.
Frenchy grinned knowingly, and they set about
their work together. Tonight, they would have
many riches! Maybe he would even settle down
with Victoria and stay put for a while. He did hate
to leave her so much, but a pirate’s ship was no
place for a woman.
Leaning against the railing of the Aphrodite, Kat
gazed appreciatively at the sun bouncing off the
water, the surf rolling gently around her. Her long
lashes fell to her soft cheeks as she absorbed the
sounds in the air.
The call of men getting ready for battle filled her
ears and echoed in her heart. It thrilled her. She
knew it shouldn’t, and that it was a long way from
her upbringing, but it set her heart pounding just
the same.
She had never confessed this; even to
Frankie…and as tired as she was of this life, her
spirits rose to the occasion. It always gave her
great satisfaction to avenge her father’s death, to
triumph over a filthy pirate when he thought he had
her. Frankie didn’t think she was very bloodthirsty,

156
but she was wrong. Kat desired revenge, too; she
just desired her old life more.
Sighing, she lifted the spyglass to peer through
cool emerald eyes at Macalister talking with Nigor
on the Lady Princess. Her blood boiled as she
watched him.
She hadn’t minded so much throwing in with
him, that wasn’t her source of protest…it was
knowing she was being forced into it that nagged at
her.
The idea of being coerced into anything struck a
serious nerve with her. She had greatly resented
being arrested and forced to his home, blackmailed
and threatened with a spanking. Being treated like
a child was not to her liking!
Kat was all woman, and she enjoyed using her
feminine charms, even against Macalister. She
knew he was not immune to her, but it aggravated
her that he favored the childish discipline and had
told Pierre he intended to spank her. Her delicate
chin jutted out in defiance as he looked her way. If
he valued his life, he had best reconsider!
She mulled the idea of the treasure over in her
mind…wouldn’t it be great if they could steal it out
from under Macalister? What great revenge that
would be on the odious pirate. The tip of her pink
tongue licked her lips as she thought about it. Now
THAT would be satisfying. Her emerald eyes
gleamed in anticipation.
Kat knew double-crossing a man like Macalister
would be a grave mistake, but she couldn’t resist
playing with the idea. After all, what did they really
have to lose?
Their mother wasn’t alive, this Kat was sure of.
Frankie might be naïve enough to believe that
treacherous murderer, but she was not. Certainly,
they would come after the girls if they were to
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double-cross them, but there were options to
consider here.
A small smile played with her full soft lips as her
mind began to speculate on the possibility of putting
such a plan into action. She hailed her twin coming
across the deck.
“No!” Frankie spat emphatically, staring at Kat
as if she had gone crazy.
Kat glowered at her sister. “Why not? We could
pull this off, Frankie, we could!”
“We are not risking it, Kat! If we try to pull off a
swindle, and we get caught, Macalister will see our
crew dead and God only knows what will happen to
us. I haven’t come this far to lose now over greed!”
“Greed?” Kat was aghast. “You think this is
about greed? It has nothing to do with financial
gains, dear sister.” Her tone became mocking.
“Don’t you see, Kat, we have to play this right!
We are so close to finding Mother. I am not willing
to risk losing her again.”
Kat’s eyes flashed scornfully. “She’s dead,
Frankie…dead! He is lying to you. Besides, what
about our father? He killed our father! Is there no
payback for that? If our mother is by some miracle
alive, do we simply dismiss the murder of our
beloved father? Or have you forgotten about him?”
She turned away in disgust, closing her eyes
and fighting back the tears that threatened to spill
out. Her father had been her world; he was the
reason she had sought out LaSalle along side her
sister. Her mother being alive would not change
the fate of LaSalle in her eyes.
Frankie sighed deeply. “No, Kat, I haven’t
forgotten about him.”
“I will see that man die, Frankie. If it is the last
thing I do in this lifetime. I will see my blade run
through his heart. In the meantime, I will cross
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him, I will make his life as hellish as I possibly can,
every single chance I get!” A fiery glow of
determination burned in Kat’s eyes.
“Why are you so bent on making Macalister’s life
hell?”
“Because he is an arrogant ass! I don’t have
time for men like that! Normally, I ignore them, but
he has been an exceptional thorn in my side since
we arrived on his little island, and I intend to get
even.” She wouldn’t admit to herself that she was
strongly attracted to him and that made her even
angrier with him…and herself.
Frankie sighed and her hand rubbed her bottom
cheek absentmindedly. Kat was always
so…so…passionate about everything. “We are not
crossing them, not yet, Kat. Perhaps, we will, in
due time, but not yet.”
Kat’s eyes narrowed as she watched Frankie
rubbing her backside. “I cannot believe you allowed
that man to touch you, Frankie. He spanked you
like a small child! I would have slit his throat, then
stepped on his dead face on my way out the door!”
Frankie turned on her sister in frustration. “Kat,
I have to know, can’t you understand that? Until I
know for certain, LaSalle shall live! And as for the
spanking, it’s not like I had a lot of choice, and
neither will you if Macalister decides to punish you.
You may think you do, but you don’t!”
“Ha!” declared Kat, incensed. “That is where
you are wrong, Frankie, I will cut his heart out of he
tries it!”
Frankie stared shrewdly at Kat. “No you won’t,
you are attracted to the man, admit it. I’ve seen
the way you look at him, Kat, and you are angry
with yourself because of it.”
Kat flushed. “I admit nothing!”

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 Frankie shrugged her slender shoulders. “Have
it your way.”
Kat appealed to Frankie one last time. “At lease
consent to considering the idea of stealing the
wealth, Frankie. At least, give me the possibility of
that satisfaction.”
Frankie merely shook her head. “Its not the
time, Kat.”
With a muttered oath, Kat stalked off to sharpen
the blades of her throwing knives and get some
target practice. Maybe, if she was lucky, Macalister
might jump in front of one of them during the fight.

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 Chapter Nine

Morg’s glass had swung lazily around and caught

Kat’s earnest face while she was talking to Frankie.
She was heated up about something. He wondered
briefly what it concerned, and then dismissed it.
He’d like to see that energy beneath him…writhing
in ecstasy as he filled her with his long length…he
brushed the errant thoughts aside. Now was not
time to dwell on such pleasures.
He surveyed the ships one by one; it was a
diverse fleet. The Aphrodite was a magnificent
galleon, immense firepower, but not built for
speed. The Nemesis, the Lady Queen and the
Bandit had good firepower and adequate speed,
while the Lady Princess and the Eclipse were like
rabbits. Only twenty guns but the ability to move in
and out quickly, striking and doing small amounts of
damage almost at will.
The plan was simple. Hit the treasure galleons
from a distance with the Queen and the Bandit, who
were carrying British made cannon, with a far
greater range than the French cannons carried by
Nemesis and Aphrodite. The Spanish Fleet couldn’t
come close to reaching them with their guns.
After their bombardment, the Princess and the
Eclipse would sail in at top speed and occupy the
escort ships, while Nemesis and Aphrodite would
storm in and attack the galleons up close. During
the firefight, the Queen would race in and board the
first treasure galleon, firing salvos of chain and nails
onto the decks to soften the Spanish crew.
The final phase of the plan was for the Aphrodite
to break off her attack and engage the escort ships
from range, while Nemesis and her crew stormed
the second galleon. It was a good plan, and Morg
had confidence in Pierre and Captain Frankie, even
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if he didn’t like the girls’ personal attitudes. He had
been told Frankie was a good strategist, and both
girls knew how to fight.
The Princess under Nigor’s command led the
way out of the harbor, and Morg’s senses thrilled to
the prospect of battle. It had been too long since
he had been back on the open sea. Becoming
governor of Pirates Hideaway had curtailed his
activities a bit, and he was glad to be back in the
fray.
The next day, about midmorning, the lookout
saw the Lady Princess racing towards them at top
speed. The prey had seen the wolf. Morg looked
around at the other ships in the fleet and saw
Frenchy and Jacque looking wary but confident. He
looked to the deck of the Aphrodite and saw Kat
with a gleam in her eye. That was a frightening
look. The woman appeared to have no fear!
Frankie and Pierre, on the other hand, looked
resigned and determined. He was satisfied.
They engaged the Spaniards just before noon. It
was indeed four frigates and two galleons; their
information had been correct. The seas were heavy
ahead of an approaching storm, but the winds were
light. The Spanish Galleons were lumbering in the
heavy swells, as were the Aphrodite and the Bandit,
but Nemesis and the Lady Queen sat lighter in the
water and were not having as much trouble. The
Princess and the Eclipse were able to zip around,
but even their speed was slightly impaired.
They engaged the frigates while the Queen and
the Bandit got into firing position, and the morning
sky exploded with the sound of long-range cannon
fire. It did not take long for the well trained
gunners on the Queen to find their range, and only
two salvos later, the Bandit’s crew found their mark.

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 Of course, the best-laid plans often go awry. As
soon as the cannons found their marks, three of the
Spanish frigates turned towards the Aphrodite and
the Bandit at full sail.
Morg looked towards Nigor on the Princess and
could see him struggling to keep her track in the
rough seas. Her crew was being bounced around,
and the ship was rocking so badly that her accuracy
was off.
Jacques turned to his helmsman and called for
full sail and right full rudder. It was time to enter
the fight. Looking towards the Aphrodite, it looked
like one of the frigates was bringing the fight to
her. Just as he got the Nemesis turned, there was
a deafening explosion on the deck of the
Queen…one of her cannons had exploded. This was
not the way the fight was supposed to start!
“Ready on all sides,” yelled Frankie, directing
the crew from the top deck of the Aphrodite. The
men were ready on the starboard and the port side,
but the Spanish frigate thought to sneak up the
back door. Frankie was ready for him. She hadn’t
sailed with her father for years without learning a
few tricks. She signaled Pierre, and when the
frigate came up the back door, the disguised
cannons on the deck sent their load into her bow,
exploding it before it could turn to fire sideways.
“A direct hit,” screamed Kat, her eyes alight with
the joy of victory and battle. Frankie wondered as
usual at her ferocity. It seemed Kat came alive in
these battles, and she had always assumed it was
“one more for my mother,” but sometimes she
wondered if it was more than that. Shaking off the
thought, she concentrated on the fight raging
around her.
“Hard to port, get those cannons ready…bite her
as we turn,” she yelled to Gaston. The frigate was
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already taking on water, and its pace had slowed
considerably. She raced to stand beside Gaston.
“Get those grappling hooks ready, we are going to
board her after you raze her and finish her off.”
“No, Frankie!” Pierre shouted. “Leave the
frigate for the Princess. The Queen just had a
cannon explode on deck, and we need to cover the
other galleon.”
“Agreed,” returned Frankie, her sharp intellect
immediately understanding his instructions. They
were supposed to hit the galleons to begin with but
the frigate had done an about turn and played
false. But then battles never go the way they are
planned, and one must always be prepared for such
emergencies!
“Hard to starboard, Gaston!” she instructed.
She saw the Nemesis engaging the first galleon as
they moved into place. The tall figure of LaSalle
strode along the top deck, waving instructions to
the crew and signaling the cannon fire. She felt a
rush of blood to her face as she thought of the kiss
he had given her. Dismissing it from her mind, she
turned back to the battle.
Morg saw the cannon explode and men fall to
the deck. He swore as Sam came running up,
splattered with blood and splinters. “How many
dead?
“Five dead and seven wounded, Captain,” he
stated calmly.
Morg ripped the wheel out of the helmsman’s
hand and swung the Queen around hard to
starboard. “Full sails, men,” he screamed. “Man
the grappling hooks, prepare to board. Port canons,
load your shot and nails!”
“Captain,” Sam interjected, “we have but eighty
five men, and the galleon will have over a hundred

165
and fifty, even after that barrage. You are leading
us to a massacre.”
Determination set in Morg’s face. “Trust me,
Sam, there is a method to my madness.” Morg
looked at the panicked helmsman and gave him
back the wheel. “We have but one chance, when I
tell you, HARD AROUND, you bring those port
cannons to bear. We’ll be about twenty five yards
from the first galleon.”
Morg’s plan was to give the galleon a small
target from 150 yards, the effective range of their
cannon, then swoop in as she reloaded, looking like
a grappling move, lure their fighters to the edge of
the ship and then blast them broadside with nail
and shot…shredding the Spanish sailors. They
would then swing inside of the first galleon, leaving
the second one with no clear shot at them.
“Lower all sails!” Morg commanded as they hit a
hundred and seventy five yards. Just as they hit
the range of the Spanish guns, all of their training
took over as the shells bounced off the hardened
hull. The shot scattered over the deck, barely
wounding two crewmen who weren’t under cover.
“Forty five seconds men…RAISE THOSE SAILS!”
The sails came up quickly as Morg looked off to the
side and saw one of the Frigates moving close for a
shot.
Just as quickly, the little Lady Princess cut the
water between them. Nigor was brilliant, he had
cut the range on the frigate to inside their effective
cannon range, and he was pounding their sails and
mast with cannonades, and sharpshooters were
picking off men left and right.
The Queen moved in to twenty five yards as
they quickly lowered main sail and raised the battle
sail. At the same time the British flag came down,
the scarlet battle flags were raised. The timing was
166
perfect as the Spanish galleon got off another shot
that would have shredded the main sail, but barely
damaged the smaller battle sails.
Morg looked at the helmsman. “NOW!” he
screamed and the Queen came hard about in the
water. “Give ‘em hell, lads!” he shouted as the
portside cannons rained death and destruction on
the Spanish ship. “PREPARE TO BOARD!” Again
the training paid off, and the sharpshooters
protected the grapplers.
This was the most dangerous part, boarding a
galleon from a smaller ship because they had to
climb the ropes to get on board, except for the
brave few that climbed the rigging and swung over
on ropes.
Quickly, the crew of the Queen sprang over in
twos and threes, their swords slashing, pistols firing
and fierce battle cries ringing in the air. The smell
of black powder and the screams of the dying were
all around. The deck was slippery with blood as
Morg went in search of the Spanish captain.
Jacque laughed and shook his head at Morg’s
tactics. He had to admit that he was either very
brave or very foolish, but it was not hard to see how
he had earned his reputation.
He surveyed the battle scene and was satisfied
that the tide had turned in their favor. The
Aphrodite had disabled one Frigate, the Princess
had another occupied, and the Bandit was in a
cannon fight with a third one.
He looked around for the Aphrodite and saw her
circling to the far side of the second galleon. He
tipped his hat. “Brilliant, Frankie, just brilliant.” He
urged his crew to hit the second galleon on this
side. Boarding her from two sides should make
short work of it for everyone.

167
 As the Nemesis and the Aphrodite prepared to
sandwich the second galleon, Morg looked up and
saw the solitary figure of Kat, swinging on a
line…not to the second galleon, but over to the first
galleon!
He hoped to see some of Aphrodite’s crew follow
since the Queen was badly outnumbered, but no
more came. “What is that woman up to?” Morg
muttered as he heard the distinctive sound of wood
on wood when the Queen butted up side to side to
the treasure galleon.
The crew of the Queen had fought proudly and
boldly. They had asked no quarter and given none
with the Spanish crew. Morg had finally located the
captain, and the duel began. Thrust and
parry…dodge and block…back and forth the battle
raged.
Morg felt the burn in his lungs and the weakness
in his arms, as fatigue became an enemy to both of
them. “Surrender and you shall live, Captain,” Morg
called out.
“No, mi amigo,” he replied grimly. “Death is
preferable to dishonor! But it is you who shall die
this day.”
Morg fought like a man possessed and finally
found an opening. He delivered a fatal blow into
the Captain’s stomach just as the hilt of the
Spaniard’s sword came crashing down across his
left eye, knocking him backwards down the steps
and into the hold of the galleon.
He must have been unconscious for a moment,
for in the next minute, an angel, a redheaded vision
swam before his eyes. A savior? No, he decided,
as he tried to focus…it was Kat with the blade of her
knife at his throat! He caught the fierce look in her
eye and remembered his mother’s admonition, “If
you live by the sword, ye shall die by the sword.”
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169
 Perhaps the Spanish captain had been
right…maybe he would die today.
Morg hurt from head to toe, and he groaned in
pain. His left eye was swollen shut, he figured his
nose was broken, and he felt the blood trickle from
swollen lips. Looking up at her, he managed a
sardonic smile. “Go ahead, lass, nobody would ever
know.”
Frankie and Pierre quickly scrambled to the deck
of the second galleon as the Nemesis bumped into
the other side of her.
Her men began taking over the ship. With
Pierre at her back, she began racing towards the
helmsman where the captain stood behind him.
But where was Kat? She looked briefly around.
The three of them always fought together and
covered each other’s backs. The captain and the
helmsman drew their swords as Kat and Pierre
advanced on them. As the fight began, thoughts of
Kat had to be put out of her mind, and she forced
herself to concentrate.
Frankie ignored the blood and the wounded all
around her…she had learned long ago to blank it
out, but it never ceased to bother her. It bothered
her more today because she knew these men were
not pirates, and she had nothing against them
personally. It was she who was the pirate this day!
Finally, she sliced the captain across the thigh
and he went down, dropping his sword and
surrendering while the blood gushed from an
obvious artery wound on the inside. “Order your
men to stand down,” she demanded, her blade at
his heart.
“Madre de Dios!” The Captain swore softly.
“What manner of senorita are you?”
“Just give the order,” she hissed.

170
171
 The captain, holding his leg, struggled to stand.
Pierre finally hauled him upright. He issued the
order through clenched teeth, and the few
remaining that hadn’t already fallen, dropped their
swords. The pirates quickly rounded them up and
put a guard on them.
“Take this man to the Aphrodite and see to his
wounds,” ordered Frankie to two of her men.
“Hold it!” LaSalle barked, his dark eyes
thunderous as he approached them “What are you
doing?”
“I’m taking this man back with me,” Frankie
replied, her tone brooking no refusal. “He is
wounded and surrendered honorably, and he will die
if we don’t see to him,
“Captains rarely take the pirate oath,” replied
Jacque, “and pirates don’t leave witnesses.”
Frankie held her sword up. “Do you wish to
fight me for him?” Her voice was soft and deadly,
and Jacques knew she meant every word. She
would defend this man to the death. He shook his
head in amazement.
“You are being very foolish, ma petite,” he said
quietly.
“I have found pirates for the most lot to be
incredibly ignorant” snorted Frankie. “If you will
check his sword hand, you will find he bears a ring
with the crest of the Spanish monarchy. “I’m quite
sure he would be of more use to us alive than
dead.” She stared at him, daring him to refute her
statement.
Jacques didn’t say anything more, but he
scowled as he appraised the girl before him.
Frankie lifted her chin defiantly. “I suggest you
go to the aid of the Queen, she is badly

172
outnumbered,” she said haughtily. “Pierre and I will
finish up here.”
“Oh, I’m sure you would like to finish up here.
Just like I’m sure your sister is handling things on
the other ship. No, ma cherie, I will stay right here,
by your side as long as there is treasure here.” He
did dispatch several of his men to go to the Queen’s
aid, however.
Quickly, he barked orders to his other men.
“Find out who intends to join with us and throw the
others overboard. Then put them in a launch and
send them to the Nemesis.”
Turning to the Spanish captain, he poked him in
the back with his sword. “Since the nursemaid here
sees fit to take you to her ship, I won’t argue, but I
will take these,” he said as he took the key ring off
the captain’s belt.
Frankie stared at the handsome Captain,
thinking back to another day. Her father had done
business with a man bearing that crest. A Juan
Hidalgo of the Lamantero house of Spain, a very
wealthy, very old, and prominent family. A family
of wine merchants connected to the Spanish
monarchy itself.
Some of the finest wines of New Orleans and
Louisiana came from this source. Frankie
remember her father clapping the old man on the
shoulder and telling him he would hope to return
the favor some day when he had fished Frankie out
of the waters along the wharf where she had
inadvertently fallen.
She had only been fourteen at the time, but she
remembered the young boy at his father’s side.
The hand that had reached down to fish her out of
the water had worn a ring like that, and it had
glinted in the sunlight as she bobbed up, gasping
for breath.
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 “What is your name?” she snapped, her blue
green eyes boring into him.
He glared at her. “I will not answer your
questions, senorita.”
“You will answer her, or you will die,” growled
Jacques swiftly, pressing his sword harder against
the captain’s back.
“Go ahead,” snarled the Captain. He turned to
stare balefully at LaSalle, his liquid brown eyes
daring him to do his worst.
“Where did you get that ring?” Frankie
asked.
The Captain looked surprised at that question,
but he answered grudgingly. “It was my father’s.”
He peered closely at Frankie then, studying her
delicate features. “You seem familiar, chica.”
“You know this man?” snapped Jacques, not
liking that thought. It did not set well with him.
“It matters little at this point,” Frankie replied
evasively. “Take him to the Aphrodite, Gaston, see
to his wounds, and I will speak with him later.”
She turned to Jacques. “We have much work to
do.” She held out her hands for the keys he had
taken.
A wicked smile lit Kat’s impish face, and her
green eyes danced with delight. Leaning in close to
Morg’s unshaven face, she spoke in a sultry
whisper. “Why, Monsieur Macalister, you do seem
to be at a distinct disadvantage here.” She
delighted in the fact.
Leaning back on her heels slightly, she perused
his masculine body. Not bad at all, as she already
knew. Of course, the blood trickling from his eye
and the condition of his face left a lot to be desired,
but she still felt a stirring in her loins at the bulge in
the V of his muscular legs. Pursing her soft pink
lips together, she considered slipping the blade
174
across his throat. He was right, no one would
know. This was her perfect chance for revenge. So
why did she hesitate?
Tipping her head to the side with a grin, she
eyed him contemplatively for a brief moment. He
really was a fine specimen of manhood, and now
that she had him at a disadvantage, she wasn’t
quite as angry with him as she had been. If fact,
this was rather intoxicating, this knowledge that she
had him at her mercy.
Morg squinted painfully through the one eye that
was still of some use to him at the vixen squatting
beside him. To his chagrin, she seemed to be
seriously considering slitting his throat where he
lay.
Gratification coursed through Kat when she
heard him grunt as she stood and placed one well-
polished black boot in the middle of his broad
chest. Smiling devilishly, her silky voice reached his
ear through the din above them.
“Monsieur Macalister, it is true that you have
pricked my ire on more than one occasion, and you
did seek to blackmail us so it would only seem right
that I take full advantage of the opportunity fate
has afforded me…however…I find I don’t really
desire your blood. In fact, I desire nothing from
you…absolutely nothing!”
Morg could feel the fog lifting from his
exhausted state. He recognized the feeling of a
second wind approaching him, the renewed vigor of
a man uncertain of his fate, yet not willing to meet
death. Without warning, his hand whipped out like
a snake and wrapped around Kat’s small ankle. In
a flash, he had pulled her to the ground.
Kat gasped for air as she hit the hard floor.
Shocked by his speed and her own stupidity, she
swore as he pinned her beneath his hard chest.
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“Are you certain you desire nothing from me, Miss
Fontaine?”
His ragged, hot breath brushed against her
cheek as she recoiled in indignation. Her brilliant
emerald eyes flashed as she spat, “I’m certain,
Monsieur Macalister…nothing!”
Pressing himself against her ample breasts even
harder, he returned her earlier devilish smile as she
began to flail underneath him. Her hand ripped
from his tight hold as she lashed out to slap him.
Deep gratification raced through her as the crack of
the slap filled the room. Her pleasure faded quickly
when he flinched only briefly and immediately
caught her hand in his hard grip.
Kat settled a moment needing to consider how
she was going to best him. Their lips a mere inch
apart, his voice husky, he whispered. “You really
are one hell of a wildcat aren’t you?”
She wished he were laying straight down on her,
rather than off to the side because she would love
to have driven her leg straight into his manhood.
She lamented over not having slit his throat while
she had the chance. Her green eyes narrowing, she
smiled provocatively. “Don’t you ever forget it,
Monsieur.” With that, she slammed her head
straight into his.
The dizziness set in immediately, and Kat took
advantage of his weakness. Slipping out from
under him, she grabbed her knife victoriously and
wheeled around to face him.
“Captain,” cried Pete from above, “get up here!”
The two combatants, interrupted, agreed by
silent eye consent to take this up later.
Morg’s head reeled, and he staggered as he
looked around for his sword. Blood ran down his
face, and his left eye was completely useless now,
swollen shut.
176
177
 Kat saw his sword and bent to retrieve it. He
noticed she didn’t kneel, but bent at the waist,
allowing the firm young curves of her buttocks to
wiggle in his direction. As she stood and handed
him the weapon she smirked. “Enjoy the view?”
He patted her bottom as they walked towards
the ladder. “Ye’ll be sharing it with me soon
enough, lass, when I have two eyes and ye are over
my knee.”
She started to respond indignantly, but he had
already headed up the ladder. Fuming at the veiled
threat, she followed him up, convinced once more
that she should have sliced his throat!
When Morg reached the top of the deck, the
carnage hit him. The crew of the Queen was
fighting well, but the Spanish far outnumbered
them. He was beginning to think he had
miscalculated when crews from the Nemesis and the
Aphrodite began pouring across the stern.
Kat and Morg were fighting back to back when
the cry of “Rendicion!” came from the mouth of the
helmsman. They had finally surrendered.
Morg’s hand went to Kat’s shoulder. “Tell
me…the Princess?”
In a moment of gentleness, Kat whispered in his
ear. “She is fine.”
“You’re not looking too good, Captain,”
remarked Sam. He tore a piece of Morg’s shirt off
and tied it around his head, stemming the flow of
blood.
With blood blinding one eye and the other
swollen shut, Morg had no idea how Sam looked. He
wiped his good eye clear and stood back to survey
the deck. Quickly, he began to bark orders to his
crew. “Sam, we need to lash the two galleons
together and transfer all the dead bodies to one of
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179
them and the treasure to the other. Also, raise our
flags to let everyone know the battle is over. How
bad are our casualties?”
“Looks like we lost twenty eight from the Queen,
plus the seven in the cannon blast, I don’t know of
the others yet.”
As the leaders gathered together, the argument
was still raging between Frankie and Jacques. He
kept telling her that “dead men tell no tales,” and
she kept insisting they were taking care of the
wounded and especially the Spaniard she had taken
on board. Many of the Spanish crew pledged
allegiance to the pirates, and those that didn’t were
thrown overboard, despite Frankie’s objections.
It was agreed to scuttle the galleon that was
heavily damaged, the casualties put aboard it and
keep the other one.
“I’ll take the treasure on board the Nemesis,”
Jacques volunteered.
Kat jumped in. “Oh, we can carry it on the
Aphrodite.” Something about the gleam in her
green eyes made Morg nix that suggestion. He
looked at Frankie. “The prisoner is your
responsibility. I agree with Jacques, though, dead
men tell no tales.”
He was not surprised when Frankie glared at
him and didn’t answer. The ships returned to the
Hideaway with their treasures and newly acquired
crews and ships to divvy up the loot.

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 Chapter Ten

The Captains of the raiding ships and their first

officers met at the Governor’s mansion to discuss
the percentages of the treasure division. It had
indeed been a rich one, and Morg was well pleased
with the day’s work.
Jacques spoke up. “Divide the treasure into
sixths and each ship gets a share. Ten percent to
the captain, five percent to the officers and the rest
to the crew.”
Morg wasn’t sure the bigger ships cared for that
notion, considering the galleons had a lot more men
than the frigates. He listened to the discussions
until, finally, he spoke. “We’ll divide the treasure
this way. Thirty percent to the six captains to be
divided evenly; Thirty percent to the twelve officers,
five percent to be used for supplies, building and
ship repair here on the island and twenty five
percent to be divided between the crews.
Kat spoke up, “That’s only ninety percent,
Monsieur, what are you going to do with the other
ten percent? Keep it as a bonus?” she jibed
delicately.
“Have ye no patience, your highness?” Morg
growled.
Kat flushed in indignation when the other men
laughed at her.
Nigor spoke up. “Begging your pardon, milady,
but the Captain always sends ten percent of any
treasure taken from the Spanish Crown to one of
the missions on the other islands to feed and clothe
those who have been orphaned by the Spanish
attack on their lands.”
“I’ve heard rumors of you doing that, Macalister,
but never really believed it,” Jacques chuckled.

181
 Always the skeptic, Kat snorted in disbelief. “Oh,
oui, Monsieur, and I need an additional twenty
percent for the street urchins in Paris. You expect
us to believe that?”
Frankie, too, laughed derisively. “Is that how
you justify what you do, Macalister?”
“In that case, maybe you better just give it all to
us so we can dispense it to the poor and needy
creatures of the world,” scoffed Kat. She did not
miss the tightening of Morg’s jaw or the flash of his
one good eye. Good! She hoped he was offended.
She wasn’t interested in how he managed to make
himself feel better over blood money.
She felt sick, suddenly, as she stared at Morg
and Jacque. Here she was sitting across from the
man who had killed her father. She had teamed up
with murderers! How could she betray her parents
by arguing over a treasure they held only by
cooperating with a man who had killed them? It
was a treasure that she and Frankie didn’t even
have a use for. She stood up, the chair slamming
to the floor behind her.
“Sit down, Kat!” Morg roared.
“NO!” Kat yelled furiously. Her mind reeled,
and a sickening chill ran down her spine. “You keep
your blood money and hand it off to whomever you
see fit if that’s what it takes for you to sleep at
night, Monsieur Macalister! I want no part of it!”
She turned to face LaSalle. “And, as for you,
Monsieur,” she spat, “I could be laying discarded in
a desert, ravaged by thirty men, parched to the
bone and so help me, I would spit the last tiny
morsel of saliva left in my mouth at you before I
took anything from you! Keep your bloody treasure
and may it curse you as you did us the day you
killed our parents!”

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 Kat whirled and ran out the door, leaving a
shaken and trembling Frankie behind. Her face was
deathly white, and she stared accusingly at Jacques,
her eyes huge. She felt torn between her sister and
this man already. Her resolve to see him dead had
changed, and not only that, but he created hot
desires within her that she had no right to feel.
Jacques returned Frankie’s stare, his face dark
and grim. He wanted to take her in his arms and
assure her that she meant more to him than
passion’s merciless drive, but he couldn’t. He didn’t
want to feel those things, not for another woman
who might be snatched away from him. He didn’t
say anything, and Frankie got up and followed Kat
out.
“Kat!” she called, “Wait up!”
Kat waited until Frankie drew level with her, and
then she said tensely, “I’m tired of this, Frankie! I
want to challenge LaSalle, right now…make him
talk…if he actually does know anything!”
Frankie fidgeted uneasily at the strength of Kat’s
vehemence. She, too, was tired, and Kat’s
outbursts were causing her emotions to war with
each other. Finally, she spoke wearily, “Don’t
forget we need our share for the men. They do
have families at home, Kat, even if we have no
need of the money. And you know as well as I of
the rumors concerning Jacques LaSalle and his run
in with the French crown. Perhaps there is some
good reason why he has taken to the sea, just as
we have.”
Kat really could not believe her ears. “You are
defending this murderer?”
Frankie flushed. “I’m not defending him, I’m
just saying he might have his reasons, you know.
Just like us. It’s obvious the man has breeding, just
like Macalister. We don’t know the entire story,
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Kat. Perhaps we shouldn’t be so quick to judge.
After all, we are being judged unfairly as we speak!”
Kat became bitter and mocking. “My, for
someone who was so hell bent on destroying
LaSalle, you have changed your tune suddenly.
What’s the matter, dear sister? Are you suddenly
wishing for the touch of a man’s hand on your
breast…his hardness waiting to enter between your
silken thighs? Has Monsieur LaSalle stirred hot lust
to life in your veins?”
“Stop it, Kat!” ordered Frankie furiously, her
eyes flashing. “Perhaps it is you who is in lust! I’ve
seen the way you look at Macalister. Don’t tell me
it hasn’t crossed your mind! I know what you’ve
been doing with Mace. I saw you both one night in
the meadows. Perhaps it is you who is filled with
desires you cannot quench! Perhaps you hate
yourself for wanting a man like Macalister!”
“Mon Dieu, how can you even say something
like that, Frankie, if you were not my sister I would
cut your tongue out,” hissed Kat furiously. “I love
Mace more than life itself, and I long every day to
return to him. But we are stuck here on this…this
godforsaken island for who knows how long now,
and I hate it! Do you hear me? I hate it!”
Frankie watched, incensed, as Kat fumed and
stalked towards the ship, indignation in every move
of her slender body. She sighed and ran a
trembling hand through her hair.
Finally, she spun on her heel and headed
towards the town’s hotel. She had given Gaston
instructions to have the Spaniard taken there where
the Doctor could attend him, and he could get good
care from the maids. The hotel proprietress would
need payment for those services until she could
decide what to do with the man.

185
 She looked down the front of her clothes and
grimaced. The Spaniards blood was all over her,
and she longed desperately for a hot bath, but it
would keep. As she walked, she thought of Kat’s
accusing words. There was no doubt she was
feeling an attraction for Jacques LaSalle? Her mind
screamed no, it can’t be so…yet her body seemed to
burn when she thought of his kiss…and yes, God
help her, she had responded!
Shaking off her troubling thoughts, she knocked
lightly on the locked door. A woman answered.
She was tall, with long blond hair and sweet
features adorned with big blue eyes. Her face and
limbs were very tanned, and she wore the native
island sarong. “How can I help you, Captain?” she
asked quietly, her eyes narrowing at the blood on
Frankie’s clothing. She had seen enough blood for
one day. Many of the wounded from the day’s raids
had ended up in her hotel.
“Bonjour, I wish to see the Spanish captain,”
Frankie replied. “To be assured he is well and to
pay the owner of this establishment for medical
services and care.
“I own this hotel; my name is Beth. I’ll allow
you fifteen minutes.” Beth spoke tiredly. “It’s been
a long evening, and I personally lock up at night. I
cannot rest until I know all is secure…you
understand?”
“Oui,” returned Frankie softly. “Here is a bag of
gold, it should cover any expenses you incur.”
She gave the woman the gold and followed her,
wondering how a light skinned English lady would
wind up in a Pirate’s Hideaway.
Beth led her to a curving stairway, having
similar thoughts as Frankie. “Pardon my asking,
but what are two young and obviously well bred
girls such as you and your sister doing playing
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pirate? I would think you would be home having
coming out balls and looking for a husband.”
“We have our reasons,” returned Frankie
tightly. She didn’t bother to tell Beth that revenge
was a powerful motivator…powerful enough to
disrupt their lives.
She did remember what it was like to be
sixteen, but it seemed years and years ago. She
wondered if anything would ever be the same?
“In here,” Beth said, unlocking a door in the left
hallway. Frankie stepped past her to view the pale
man lying back against the pillows. A young girl
with skin like porcelain and hair like the sun was
sitting at his bedside. “That is Emily. LaSalle sent
her up here, one of his many castoffs, I’m
assuming. She hasn’t said much, but she has paid
her own way so far and offered to help, so I told her
to watch him for fever and such through the night.
He was seriously wounded.”
“I know,” Frankie murmured. “It was my sword
that wounded him.”
Beth didn’t say anything at this surprising
admission. Nodding, she turned to go.
Frankie walked over to the sleeping man and
looked down at the ring once again. The house of
Hidalgo.
She was sure this was the young man she had
seen with Juan Hidalgo that day. If so, then her
father’s debt would be repaid. She had saved his
life, just as his father had saved hers seven years
ago. But what would she do with him now?
“Ola, Francesca Fontaine,” he murmured, his
liquid brown eyes opening to look tiredly at her.
Startled, she looked from the ring to his face.
At her surprised look, he smiled. “Si, senorita, I
know who you are. My father saved your life, and
now, I presume that is why you have saved mine?”
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 “Como estas tu?” smiled Frankie softly. “Como
se llama?”
“Me llamo es Pedro Hidalgo…y
bien…bien…gracias.” He gazed interestedly at her.
“You honor me by using my language, senorita.
Again…gracias.”
“I know very little of your language, Monsieur, I
just came to see how you had fared,” continued
Frankie with a smile. “I really need to get back to
my ship. I need a bath and some rest. It has been
a long day.”
“Why don’t you stay? We can talk about old
times, get to know one another.” His brown eyes
gleamed. “You can tell me how it is that the lovely
Francesca Fontaine of the House of Frontenac has
become a bloodthirsty pirate.”
Frankie smiled wryly at his attempt at humor. “I
long to get your blood off me.”
“Emily here can bring up a hot bath for you
behind the curtain,” he said mischievously, “and you
can rest here by me.” He patted the bed beside
him. “There is plenty of room, and I promise not to
ravish you in your sleep, senorita…por favor?”
The added please finally swayed Frankie. It felt
so good to talk to someone from the old days that
she agreed without thinking. After all, she had no
one to answer to but Kat and Pierre. Besides, Kat
was angry with her, and she cared naught for
Pierre’s protocol nonsense. That life was far behind
her.
It felt very good to converse with a friendly and
admiring face! And, obviously, Pedro was in no
condition to do anything to her, so what was the
harm?
Before she could change her mind, Pedro had
sent Emily off to tell Beth that Frankie was staying

188
and to bring a hot bath and some clean nightclothes
for her.
Thirty minutes later, Frankie was ensconced in
the hot water, sighing deeply at the warmth and the
pleasure of the lavender scents the young girl had
poured into it.
Beth sent her man Sam down the hill to tell
Pierre and Kat that Frankie was staying at the hotel
that night; Emily took her clothes off to clean and
return so they would be ready by morning. She
sighed once again in pleasure and anticipation of
the coming evening.
Holding one slender leg up, she let the soapsuds
trail down its long length. She c ould see the moon
hanging between the stars at the window. They
were on the second floor, and the tropical night
breezes stole softly in through the window, stirring
the fragile white cotton sheers. At last, she stood
up and stepped from the tub, reaching for the towel
to dry her body with.
Then she reached up the room-dividing panel for
the cool two-piece chemise of soft white cotton. It
was lovely with small burgundy ribbons at the calf
gathers and on the bodice. Lace surrounded the
scooped low-cut neckline and trailed along the
edges of the sleeveless arms.
As Frankie brushed her long, dark hair, it fell in
damp curls to her waistline, slowly drying in the
breeze. Feeling thoroughly refreshed, she looked
around for a robe, but didn’t see one. Oh well…she
shrugged her shoulders. Everything was covered,
and she was looking forward to their long
conversation.
Morg and Jacques both stood up, intending to
follow Frankie and Kat, but Pierre held up his hand.
“Please, a word with you gentlemen in private?”

189
190
 Morg looked at the doorway, then back at Pierre
and nodded grimly. “You men are dismissed,” he
said harshly to the other officers. They shuffled
out, leaving Jacque, Morg and Pierre.
“It would be best if you gave the girls some
time,” Pierre said gently. “Kat is a very volatile
personality, and Frankie is not far behind her. They
are both prone to bouts of anger for which they may
or may not be sorry for later on. They are good
girls and have good hearts, but they are not used to
this way of life.”
Morg poured a glass of rum for each of the men
while Pierre was speaking. “I’m sorry, Pierre, but
what you are really saying is that they are used to
having tantrums when things don’t go their way and
saying whatever they please without regards for the
results or how it might affect the person they are
addressing.”
“They are indeed used to speaking their mind,”
allowed Pierre reluctantly, “and sometimes it is
careless thoughts they express.”
“They lack discipline,” grunted Jacques taking a
drink of his rum. “Never have I seen two such as
these.”
“You must make allowances for the things they
have been through,” growled Pierre. “Most of that
dilemma has been caused by you, Monsieur.”
“I beg to disagree, Monsieur,” returned Jacques
evenly. “I lay the most of that at the feet of
Gatineu Fontaine. It’s quite obvious those girls
have never been taken in hand properly.”
“Revenge has driven them for the last five
years,” snapped Pierre. His golden eyes narrowed.
“Revenge for the death of their parents…a factor
you played a large part in.”
Jacques’s eyes grew cold. “I had no particular
interest in divesting them of their parents. That
191
ship was simply a French merchant ship, a prize to
be had. If Fontaine had not been so arrogant and
let his guardian ship get so far ahead, he would not
have been left prey to anyone who chose to pluck
the pigeon.
Revenge has played a large part in my life as
well, Monsieur. Making life hell for the French
government has been my sole objective for several
years. Unfortunately, as always happens, innocents
sometimes get ground up in the middle of such
feuds.”
He tossed back the rest of the drink. “As I’m
sure Frankie has told you, her mother is alive.
However, I don’t intend to give her any details until
she is willing to discuss it reasonably without
waving her sword under my nose. I don’t kneel to
threats, and there are others involved that I would
not have her taking her monstrous temper out on.”
Pierre’s lips thinned. “Kat does not believe you
are telling the truth.”
Jacques shrugged. “I cannot help what Kat
believes. I have no reason to lie. Should I wish it,
I could have both girls and the Aphrodite under my
control, so I have nothing to fear. I speak the truth
because it is the truth. Frankie has gotten all she
will get from me until she is willingly to humble
herself and act like a lady.”
“Perhaps,” Pierre admitted. “You always were
my best pupil, and I’m sure you’ve outdistanced
even me since last we dueled. But even I cannot
match Frankie’s skills anymore. She is very good
indeed.”
“Then she shall certainly be a worthy challenge,
Monsieur,” replied Jacques. “I look forward to the
battle which must come, if she refuses to follow my
instructions.”

192
 Morg spoke up for the first time. “I believe I will
talk with the wee fiery lass. Perhaps I can help
convince her you speak the truth.”
“She doesn’t appear to have any respect for you
either, Monsieur,” stated Jacques baldly.
“Aye, that is true. Perhaps it is time she learned
some.” He stood up. “I’ve been patient with her
thus far, but my patience has been sorely tried.
However, as ye have requested Pierre, I will give
the lass some breathing space. I need to get
cleaned up and my wounds tended to.”
Pierre stood up, too. “Thank you, Monsieur. I’ll
expect the two of you not to hurt the girls. They
are my nieces, and you will answer to my blade if
you do.” Pierre didn’t bluster, he just stated that
fact quietly, and Jacques and Morg looked at each
other, knowing he meant the softly spoken
promise. That was a mark of a master, the ability
to convey deep commitment in a few quiet words.
It was a command to be respected and, both men
nodded.
Frankie woke up slowly, feeling a heavy weight
across her middle and a light breathing moving the
strands of hair on the back of her neck. She felt her
breast being cupped and fingers brushing across the
rosy peak. Sucking in her breath, she rolled over to
her tummy and propped up on her elbows, then
stared accusingly at a pair of twinkling brown eyes.
“Buenos dias, pequeno uno,” Pedro murmured
softly. His dark curls were in disarray around his
temples, and his teeth gleamed against his brown
skin. “I could not resist such beauty in the
morning. Come back to my arms and let me hold
you, and I will show you what a delight mornings
can be.” He laughed at her guarded expression.
“And here I thought you were too injured to be a
threat,” she mocked.
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194
 “What? You would view my lovemaking as a
threat? I am deeply wounded, senorita!” He
clasped his hand to his heart, his long brown fingers
lying upon the pristine white cloth of his cotton
shirt, his liquid brown eyes teasing her. “I should
spank you for that comment!”
He lifted his hand threateningly over her sassy
posterior, the swells so enticingly rounded and
straining against the thin material. Her small feet
were waving in the air from the knees as if she
weren’t the least bit worried. Pedro was charmed.
The door suddenly slammed open against the
wall, and the teasing combatants froze in place,
staring at the intruder. It was Jacques LaSalle, his
face like a thundercloud, his brows drawn together
into one straight line!
“Sacre bleu!” he swore softly, his eyes dark and
menacing. “So, it is true. You have spent the night
with this…. this mutual enemy. Well, ma petite…if
you can give yourself to him, you can certainly
share your charms with me. I shall have no future
reservations in taking what I please…after I
dispense with this intruder.” He raised his sword
and advanced on them.
“Hold it right there, LaSalle,” snapped Beth,
coming into the room, followed by Sam and two
other men. “There will be no bloodshed or fighting
in my hotel. The governor has assured me I am
within my rights to defend my business, and I’m
telling you to get out!”
Jacques stopped and looked at her. He could
have easily taken all three men, but he brought
himself under control. He bowed slightly to Beth
and then looked back at Frankie. “This is not over,
ma Cherie. You shall answer to me for this.”
“She doesn’t have to answer to you for
anything,” blazed Pedro. “You don’t own her.” He
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196
refused to be intimidated by the pirate, in spite of
his precarious position. He did have a pistol under
his pillow should he choose to use it.
“Not yet, but she will,” Jacques bit out. With a
last warning look at Frankie, he spun on his heel
and left the room.
Kat rose at sunrise, not her usual waking hour,
but she had spent a troubled night. The bold reds
were lighting up the sky, and the early morning
sounds of the world waking up and starting a new
day reminded her of what was important in life.
With a deep sigh, she dressed quickly and went
to the railing of the ship to look out over the water.
She inhaled deeply, listening to the sweet chirping
of the birds as they sung their morning praises.
Her outburst at Morg’s last night and the fight
with Frankie played out in her mind once again.
She wasn’t sorry, not one bit, for the things she had
said to LaSalle, or to Macalister. She had never met
two such arrogant men; especially Morg, and he got
her back up in a hurry.
She wasn’t proud of her argument with Frankie,
though, and she felt badly over the things she had
said to her. But, she had defended LaSalle, for
heavens sake and accused her of lusting after Morg
Macalister, too!
Kat didn’t want to face the feelings that were
building with Macalister, and Frankie’s accusations
had only made her angrier. Sighing deeply, she
tried hard to picture Mace in her mind’s eye, but it
was getting harder and harder. Often, Morg’s face
would supersede it, his cruel smile mocking her
attempts to keep Mace foremost in her life.
Restlessly, she headed down the plank and off
towards the glade where she had gone before. She
didn’t want to stay on the ship this morning.

197
Frankie hadn’t come in last night, and she felt the
lack of her sister’s presence keenly.
Gaston saw Kat walking down the plank. “You
are not supposed to leave the ship, Miss Kat!”
Kat turned, her emerald eyes glittering with
renewed rage. “Gaston, if I can be a bloody pirate,
then I can bloody well walk around on this bloody
island and not be bothered by one of my own
bloody kind can’t I?” She turned her back on him
and strode off down the beach.
“Let her go, Gaston,” said Pierre quietly, coming
to stand beside Gaston. “Right now, I’d feel more
sorry for anyone she came across then I would her.
Besides, I’m sure she will be fine. She has an
escort.” He nodded at the tall figure of Morg
Macalister that had come down the jungle path and
veered off after Kat when he saw her leaving.
“Ah, yes,” murmured Gaston. “Although he
doesn’t look too happy with her, and I wouldn’t
expect it after last night.”
“No,” agreed Pierre. “They have some issues to
work out.”
Jacques left the hotel, still incensed. The fact
that Frankie had spent the night with the Spaniard
did not set well with him, and the treatment of the
hotel owner did not help his fury. He decided a few
drinks at the Nasty Grubb might improve his
temperament, so he ducked in there and ordered
rum.
“A bit early for rum isn’t it, Sir?” asked Monique
curiously. She knew this was LaSalle, and she
wondered what brought him into the pub this
morning. He looked furious.
“Just set me up, ma petite,” replied Jacque, his
bold eyes roving over her figure. Try as he might,
he couldn’t keep the image of Frankie from floating
in front of him, though, her delightful bottom in the
198
air while she lay on her tummy. Her long raven hair
had splayed across her back, and she looked to be
enjoying herself tremendously.
He was jealous of the smile she had been giving
the Spaniard, and his anger simmered. He wanted
that smile for himself, as well as that beautiful body
to hold in his arms. With a low growl, he grabbed
the rum Monique set in front of him and tossed it
back. “Give me another one,” he ordered.
“As you wish, Sir,” Monique replied obligingly.

199
 Chapter Eleven

After the second drink, Jacques decided there

was no point in getting drunk, it didn’t stop the
stabs of jealousy that were eating at him, so he
pushed away from the table and stalked out of the
pub. Might as well find a suitable place to live on
the island. He could either take over something left
from the old settlement or build his own place. He
didn’t want to live aboard the Nemesis, and staying
at the hotel was out after his run in with Beth.
Besides, he wanted his own space.
Walking between the dilapidated old buildings,
he came upon what looked to be an old jail with
living quarters on top. The jail itself had been made
of stone, which explained why it was still standing,
and the roof of the living quarters was in pretty
good condition. It seemed it was out of range of
most ship’s cannon from the bay and so had not
been damaged as many of the other buildings had.
That was all the better, he decided.
Macalister had told him he could lay claim to
anything he wanted; he decided he wanted this
place. It was roomy and spacious up top and
contained a cell that must have been used to
question prisoners separately. It had restraining
handcuffs on the walls and a set of manacles
hanging from the ceiling. Interesting possibilities.
He grinned.
Quickly, Jacques returned to the Nemesis and
directed a crew of men to clean and ready the place
for habitation. The large bed would need fresh
bedding, and supplies of food would need to be
stocked, as well as rum, candles and everything he
might need.
The downstairs cells could be converted to extra
rooms for guards etc. to stay in if he chose. There
200
was even a balcony that went around the entire
top-floor living quarters, an excellent vantage point
to look out over the sea.
There was a building nearby that perhaps
Frenchy and Victoria might be interested in as soon
as the island was past its growing pains and no
longer in danger of being taken over by one of
Morg’s enemies. He would help in that
department. Yes, perhaps it would prove a good
place to settle for a few years. He was getting tired
of the pirate life. And, in reality, his personal
vendetta against France was growing old.
If he ever found out who had lied about him to
the French crown, he would slice their throats, but
in spite of all his attempts to do so, he had come up
empty handed. They had taken his lands. His wife
and small daughter had been killed in the fire that
had been set to their barn. It had gone up quickly,
burning too hot for him to get to them, although he
had tried. It had left him almost mad for a while,
but it had been eight years, now, and the pain had
lessened. Now, at twenty eight, he tried to
remember the good times.
Jacques sighed and returned to the present. As
long as the French crown had a bounty on his head,
he could never return home. His cousin was still
working to clear his name, but nothing had come of
it thus far. All leads were dead ends. His parents
had gone into the country, ashamed and marked as
the parents of a traitor. He had heard from his
mother, but his father still refused to send him any
word.
He stripped to the waist and began to work,
clearing away rubble from around the place he had
decided to call home for now. Perhaps good hard
physical labor would clear his mind and help him not
to think about Frankie.
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 He had stopped for a break and was looking
over the balcony of his new home when he saw
Frankie leaving the hotel. Quickly, he bounded
down the stairs, intent on confronting her. It was a
scant few minutes later that he was standing before
her, a scowl on his face.
Frankie had just been thinking about Jacques
and the things Kat had accused her of, when he
suddenly appeared before her, his darkly tanned
skin bare to the waist. Startled, she caught her
breath.
“I see you are not nearly as concerned about
your mother’s welfare as you like to pretend,” he
snapped, his eyes burning into hers like fiery black
coals.
Trembling, Frankie hissed. “Just what do you
mean by that?”
He smiled sardonically. “You seem to have put
your problems on hold with the bold Spaniard
between your thighs, ma Cherie. You didn’t even
bother to approach me last night…although I waited
for you.”
Frankie reached out to slap him, incensed at his
words, but he caught her wrist in his hand.
“Not today, Mon Capitan.” He smiled cruelly. “I
shall be waiting for you, of course, gentlemen that I
am. However, after what I saw today, it will cost
you more than you may be willing to pay.” He let
his other hand trace along the tightness of her
abdomen and up between the cleft of her breasts to
her chin. Then he flung her hand down and turned
his back on her to stride away.
Frankie watched him walk away, his fingertip
trail leaving bumps on her flesh from her tummy to
her chin, and she trembled. She felt the hardened
nipples of her lush breasts straining against the
fabric just from the man’s touch.
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203
 For a moment, she wanted to call him back, to
reassure him that nothing had happened between
her and Pedro, but she caught herself. What did it
matter what he thought? And, if he intended her to
barter her body in exchange for information, he
couldn’t be more wrong!
Confused and angry, she turned and stalked
towards the Aphrodite. Of all the men she had met,
why did one handsome pirate have to stir her blood
with just a look from those dark eyes, raking her
figure, making her long for…something? Why did
his mere touch have her breasts at attention as if
begging his indulgence? And why did she feel as if
she were melting when he caught her in his gaze?
She needed to find Kat; she had more experience
with these things.
Kat drew her sword with relish, hacking and
cutting at the dense jungle foliage along the path
beyond the pool. She panted as she worked,
completely unaware of the eyes that were watching
her. She needed the exercise to clear her mind.
Not being one for tears much, Kat had to find
other ways to release her frustration and energy,
and she usually found that with physical exercise.
She was very angry still. Angry with LaSalle and
angry with Macalister for forcing her into this life
she didn’t want. She was frustrated with Frankie
because she had defended LaSalle and just plain
angry at the world for the circumstances that had
taken her parents from her.
Morg watched Kat as she vented her feelings on
the hapless weeds and palm fronds in her way. He
could recognize her fury and helplessness; he had
felt much the same way at his position in life.
However, he was still angry himself for her
disparaging words last night. She had no right to
make the accusations she did, much less hold him
204
in such contempt. She knew nothing about him but
what she saw on the surface.
Grimly, he started forward. He would try talking
to her first. If that didn’t work…well…there were
alternatives.
“Good morning, lass.” He grimaced when Kat
turned at the sound of his voice, her sword at the
ready. She didn’t show any signs of lowering it
either.
“It was good,” Kat responded, wrinkling her tiny
nose in disgust. Her heart began to beat just a little
faster, and she hated the effect he had on her
senses. It made her angrier.
“It is time we had a talk, little lass,” he stated
firmly, staying beyond her sword length.
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“That’s funny, ye had plenty to say last night!”
Her green eyes turned mocking. “Well, I guess I
said it all didn’t I? Nothing left to say…so leave!”
“I have nae intention of leaving until ye and I
have talked. Maybe ye are through, but I’m not!”
Morg’s eyes flashed menacingly as he started
towards her.
Kat kept her sword up, daring him to come
through it.
“Put the sword down, lass. I’d hate to have to
take it away from ye…ye won’t like the
consequences if I do.” He folded his long brown
arms, the sleeveless white shirt emphasizing the
smooth muscles beneath the skin.
Kat had no intention of giving in. She had never
had to before, and she didn’t intend to start now.
“Come and get it, if you can.” Her scornful gaze
raked him from head to toe, her stomach quivering
in response to his masculinity. In spite of her
resolve, she found herself backing away as he
advanced on her.
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 “Running, lass?” Morg asked silkily. “Ye are the
one with the weapon.” He had a sword, but he
refused to lower himself to dueling with her. He
might hurt her accidentally, and he had no desire to
do that. He had watched her fight and knew she
did not have the expertise of Frankie and Pierre.
But she was gorgeous with that mane of red hair
and green eyes, and he felt his body responding to
her wild spirit. He wanted to tame her, not crush
her.
“Arm yourself!” Kat demanded, her breath
coming in short burst as she jabbed at him, warning
him to stay away. The bloody man kept on coming,
and she finally lunged at him, aiming for his
shoulder.
Morg quickly sidestepped her and moved in,
grabbing her arms and forcing the sword to drop
from her fingers. She screamed and cursed at him,
and he yanked her up against his hard chest.
Kat screamed again and fought against him, but
he wrapped one long arm around her and grabbed a
handful of her red burnished curls with the other.
In a flash, his firm lips swooped down, plundering
her own soft pink lips, crushing her in his hold.
Kat raged at herself and him, unwilling to give in
to the needs her body was pressing on her.
Desperately, she tried to picture Mace’s face and
failed miserably. Her senses were slowly being
overcome by the sheer animal magnetism of the
amazing man in front of her. A man she had fought
against, body and soul since their first meeting. In
panic, she bit him, bringing the salty taste of blood
to both of them.
“Ye little wildcat,” said Morg hoarsely. He picked
her up under one arm and began to pound the seat
of her men’s breeches, his powerful right arm

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blistering the soft flesh of her tender buttocks as
she kicked and screamed at him.
They were both breathing heavily when he set
her back on her feet, holding her upper arms in a
firm grasp. “Settle down, lass…NOW!”
Kat stood trembling in his arms, her head
bowed, refusing to give in to tears. She panted,
trying to get herself under control before looking up
at him.
Slowly, Morg drew her into his embrace, moving
carefully, not wanting to set her off again. “Don’t
think ye are the only one to suffer losses, wee lass,”
he crooned soothingly. “It happens to all of us
sooner or later.”
With monumental effort, Kat brought her
defenses back up, willing herself to be unaffected at
his close presence. “What would you know about
loss?” she taunted, finally looking into his glittering
green eyes, so like her own. She thought she saw a
flash of hurt before anger flared.
“Maybe I’ll tell ye some day,” he responded
gruffly. “When ye return to acting like a lady
instead of a hellcat.”
“That will never happen,” scoffed Kat. “I never
claimed to be a lady, and I’m not starting now.”
Morg let one hand trail down to cup her breast
while Kat stared defiantly at him, trying to prove
she was unmoved by him. How could he know her
insides were like jelly? His thumb found the
rosebud of her breast while he kept her eyes pinned
in a mocking stare. The nub hardened beneath his
caress, and her breathing became faster. She could
feel dampness between her thighs, and she cursed
her traitorous body.
Morg sensed his advantage, and like the true
pirate he was, he bent his head to once again take
the slightly open lips, entreating this time, gently
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nibbling the softness. His palm slid on down to the
damp crotch, lightly caressing her womanhood
through the breeches, making her moan low in her
throat.
Kat was falling, her body giving in to the
demands so long held dormant, and she leaned into
the kiss hungrily, spreading her thighs in welcome.
Her soft arms slid behind his head, pulling him
closer.
Morg began to open the buttons on her
breeches, gently slipping them down, the short
pantaloons with them, giving him access to the red
gold curls covering the creamy mound and on to the
hot wet heat of her. His other hand began to open
the button on her shirt, and he planted hungry
kisses along her creamy skin as it came into view.
Kat was lost. Feverishly, her hands went to the
buttons on Morg’s shirt, deftly releasing them so
she could splay her small hands across his bronze
chest, rubbing and massaging before moving down
to the huge bulge in between his thighs.
Morg groaned as her small hands rubbed him
through his trousers, making him even harder if
that was possible. Frantic now, they quickly
divested each other of their clothing, sinking on top
of them to the forest floor.
Morg took her gently, afraid she might be a
virgin, and was happy to find she wasn’t. Kat’s
nails dug into his back as he rammed home then
and back out again to repeat the pleasurable
sensation all over again. He held himself back,
sliding faster and faster within the silken sheath
until he felt her grip him, waves of pleasure
shooting through her. She screamed when he made
his final thrust, taking her completely. He collapsed
to her side, pulling her on top of him. “Ye are mine
now, Kat Fontaine,” he growled into her ear.
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210
 “I belong to no one,” panted Kat fiercely, her
nails digging into his broad shoulders.
Morg quickly flipped her over. Her bottom was
still bright pink from the earlier spanking, and he
began to lay into her again on her bare flesh. “I
said ye are mine now,” he spoke grimly, his hard
hand spelling out the message. “And, as such, ye
are going to learn to behave if I have to spank ye
every day until ye learn!”
Kat screamed again and tried in vain to twist
away from his punishing hand, but he simply put his
long leg over hers and held her in place. She was
not getting up until he chose to let her go. She
wailed and beat the ground with her small fists, her
agony and frustration spilling over until finally she
gave way to hot tears.
Morg continued to spank her until she was
sobbing wildly and he felt her finally let go in
acceptance of his mastery, her body relaxing. He
rubbed the deeply red chastised cheeks; easing
some of the painful burn he knew she was
experiencing. Then he rolled her back over and lay
on his elbows above her, kissing her wet cheeks, his
knee between her sprawled thighs.
Gently, he smoothed back her hair while she
cried, not attempting to stop the tears. He sensed
she needed this cry…it must have been a long time
coming, she had fought it so hard.
Eventually, her soft arms stole up around his
neck trustingly as she sobbed, and he began to kiss
her face, trying to absorb some of her pain. “Ye are
mine, lass, and I’ll protect what is mine. I may not
have a right to ye, but I have ye now just the
same.”
Her trusting submission and the tears were his
undoing, and his throbbing member was rock hard
once again. “Shush now, lass,” he said as he
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entered her gently once again. “Ye have cried
enough.” Slowly he stoked her passion, being
careful of her sore bottom until she was writhing
with need beneath him once more.
Again, Kat screamed with pleasure as he took
her, her body at last relaxing and accepting his
dominance of her, at least for the moment. He
wasn’t foolish enough to figure it would be much
easier from now on, but he knew he had made
headway with the stubborn wench. He let her rest
for a while, and then he pulled her to her feet and
picked up their clothes, leading her naked back
through the jungle to the glade pool.
Kat allowed herself to admire his taut masculine
buttocks from behind as he led her to the water.
She felt soft and relaxed, bemused in the afterglow
of their union. Right now, she was too tired to
worry about what had happened or the
ramifications, she just intended to continue to enjoy
the moment until reality tore it away from her once
again.
Frenchy put the last bucket of pitch on the roof
of Jacques’s new home and wiped the sweat from
his forehead with his shirtsleeve. He had seen
Frankie and Jacques on the beach and knew it was
only a matter of times before a real explosion
between those two occurred. He watched
thoughtfully as Jacques came back, a dark
expression on his face.
Stepping down off the ladder, he met his friend.
“Want to go to the pub for rum? I’m going to take a
break.”
“No, you go on ahead.” Jacques’s eyes watched
the figure in the distance that was rapidly
disappearing.

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 “She is giving you fits, eh?” Frenchy smoothed
his moustache down his lips, his eyes twinkling in
spite of himself.
Jacques glowered at him. Not deigning to
answer, he turned and stalked into the jail.
Frenchy chuckled and returned to the ship.
After pouring water over his head to get rid of the
sweat and dust, he called to the guard. “I’m going
up to the pub. Keep an eye on things here.”
“Aye, Sir,” the pirate replied.
He was soon seated at a table, a bottle of rum in
one hand and a pretty barmaid talking to him on
the other side. The bar was humming with sailors
from all the different ships, and Frenchy was
enjoying himself. Little did he know the next few
minutes would change the scene dramatically.
Frankie stormed up the plank of the Aphrodite,
angry with Jacques for his audacity. “Where is Kat?”
she asked Pierre.
“She has gone into the forest,” he replied, and
then he added. “With Macalister.”
Frankie followed the direction of Pierre’s nod and
walked along the shoreline, scarcely aware of the
play of the surf around her booted feet or the call of
the wild birds as they sang on the wind. Finding the
woodland path, she started up it. It was only a
moment before she heard the sound of laugher and
splashing. Curious, she stepped silently closer, and
then she saw them.
Kat and Macalister were in a pool, playing and
cavorting with one another, naked, of course. At
first, anger surged through her, then she sighed.
Let her play. Kat deserved some happiness; they
had been to hell and back over the last five years.
If it made her happy to play with Macalister, then so
be it. She would not interfere.

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 She turned and walked slowly back along the
beach, her thoughts on the things she had wanted
to talk to Kat about and her idea of sneaking on
board the Nemesis to look for their mother. But, as
her anger cooled, she realized it was not viable.
There was no way a woman would be on board and
not have been seen by this time. No, he didn’t have
her on board the Nemesis.
So where was she…if she was alive that is! They
knew Jacques had warehouses on Tortuga, just as
they did. Was it possible they had her secreted
there somewhere? Did they have her under guard?
The thought made her wince with pain and
anger. That her mother should be locked away,
pining for her family all these years was
reprehensible to her. But what else had he done
with her? Sell her? Give her to some filthy pirate
to use all these years?
She closed her eyes, and once again, saw her
mother over Frenchy’s shoulder being carried to the
Nemesis, her eyes wide with shock and fear…WAIT!
FRENCHY!
Frankie stopped dead in her tracks, her face
going pale. It had been Frenchy who had taken her
mother! Now, she remembered! The bald
head…the scarf around his head…the moustache! It
was Frenchy! It had been Frenchy all along, and
Jacques had been protecting him!
Running now, Frankie sped on past the
Aphrodite, headed for the Nemesis. Sword drawn,
she came to a stop in front of the guard to the
plank. “Where is Frenchy?” She demanded.
The pirate sneered at her and refused to
answer. Frankie slashed out, catching the man’s
belt and his pants fell to the ground. “I asked you a
question,” she hissed dangerously as he scrambled
for his breeches.
215
 “He has gone to the pub,” replied the pirate,
backing away from her. “Crazy woman,” he
muttered as Frankie ran towards the pub.
She slammed the door to the Nasty Grubb open
and scanned the room for Frenchy. There he was,
sitting at a table with some bar wench.
The pub went quiet as Frankie quickly crossed
the room, the point of her sword flashing up and
against Frenchy’s neck. “Get lost,” she snapped to
the wench, her eyes never leaving Frenchy. The girl
tripped over herself to get away from the angry
woman with the sword in her hand.
Frenchy started to stand, but Frankie’s sword
held him back; he stayed where he was, watching
her carefully. If she had wanted to kill him, she
would already have done so.
“What did you do with my mother?” Frankie
asked in a deadly voice. “I remember now that it
was you I saw carry her away.” Her eyes narrowed
in pain. “Did you enjoy using her? Did you pass
her off to the rest of the crew to be assaulted until
she was dead and her useless body fed to the
sharks?” Her face twisted in fury. “You’ve got ten
seconds to answer me before I take off your first
ear. I’ll go on from there!”
After Frenchy left, Jacques decided to knock off
for the day and go for a swim. When he returned
Frenchy was waiting for him, and Frankie was
handcuffed in one of the cells with a blindfold over
her eyes.
“What is going on here?” he asked in
amazement.
“She came to the pub, wild with anger and
pain,” explained Frenchy. “She remembered that I
had taken her mother. She threatened to cut me
apart unless I told her where her mother was.
Several of Macalister’s men finally overpowered her
216
and placed her under arrest. Since you are now
head of the island peacekeepers, she was brought
here for you or Macalister to deal with.”
Jacques’s eyes glinted. “Did you tell her
anything?”
“No,” Frenchy sighed heavily. “That is between
you two.” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell
Jacques what he had never told anyone, yet he still
held back, for Victoria’s sake. It was their private
business alone.
“Leave us,” demanded Jacques, looking towards
his captive.
Frenchy placed a hand on Jacques’s arm. “Don’t
be too hard on her, my friend. She is my wife’s
daughter.”
“You know I shall not hurt her, but I shall teach
her a good lesson.” Jacques replied smoothly.
“Such behavior is unacceptable. I would rather deal
with it my way than arrest her and bring charges.
I’m sure Morg will allow it.”
Frenchy nodded. “Oui, on this we can agree.
But, as I said before…don’t be too hard on her!”
Jacques didn’t answer. After Frenchy left, he
opened the cell door and stepped inside. “Well my
proud, Capitan, it seems we meet again. And I
think this time, I will see for myself what the
Spaniard was allowed to enjoy.”
Frankie was trembling and furious. “Get me
down from here,” she hissed, kicking out at him,
hoping to hit him where it would hurt the most.
“I see you are not going to cooperate, ma
petite. I shall have to do something about those
feet.” He stepped in close to make her kicks
ineffectual and reached up to untie her hands. He
let her fall over his shoulder as she came down, and
he picked her up and took her up the stairs to the
private cell.
217
 “Let me go,” she hissed, kicking again. Her
hands were still tied at the wrists, but she tried to
hit him in the back. If only she could see! She
stopped when several sharp spanks landed on her
unprotected rear.
“I am not about to let you go. Creating a
disturbance in the pub, resisting arrest, trying to cut
up an innocent man, you have much to answer for,
ma Cherie.” He set her down and secured her
hands once again to the manacles hanging from the
ceiling. Only this time, he used the ankle bracelets
as well. “No place to run now, ma petite.”
Frankie tugged helplessly at the restraints over
her head, her fury mounting. She tried to move her
feet, but she was secured in a humiliating spread
eagle position, and it made her feel vulnerable.
“I’ll kill you for this,” she gasped furiously.
“Whatever you are going to do, you won’t get away
with it!”
Jacques chuckled. “Oh yes I will, you can
scream all you want, and no one will hear you.
These stone walls are thick and absorb sound, so
yell away, ma petite. The very least you deserve is
a good spanking.

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 Chapter Twelve

Jacques perused his helpless prisoner. “Lucky

for you, Frenchy will not bring charges against you
for trying to kill him. He is leaving your punishment
to me, ma petite. Something I plan to thoroughly
enjoy.”
He stepped in close to Frankie’s body, his hands
slipping to her breasts. They were full and firm to
the touch, and he lightly teased and tormented her,
causing her nipples to harden in response. “I bet
the Spaniard enjoyed these, did he not? The real
question is, did you enjoy it this much?” He smiled
in satisfaction as a groan escaped her trembling
lips.
The tall pirate wrapped his hand in her hair and
pulled her close against his chest, the hard nipples
crushed against him as his mouth sought her full
rosy lips.
Frankie moaned and tried to twist her head from
side to side, trying in vain to avoid his capture; her
senses swam as her breasts ached against the
hardness of his broad muscles. She panted when
he finally pulled away.
“Frankie, you cannot deny the flames between
us. Let yourself go, ma Cherie.” He resumed the
kiss, his tongue lightly teasing her lips, gently
parting them and sliding into her mouth. He felt her
buck against him as she responded to the surge of
desire that licked along her veins.
Smiling, he stepped away from her. “Frankie,
ma petite, this could all have been avoided if you
had just cooperated with me earlier. But now your
stubbornness will cost you.” Slowly, he began to
unbutton her shirt, allowing his tongue to trace the
flesh, as it was unveiled.

219
 Frankie stood proudly, trying to withstand this
assault on her senses. She was helpless to do
anything but whimper in protest as his tongue
trailed liquid fire down her breasts and stomach.
Finally, he stopped, and she slumped in relief.
“What to do with these clothes?” he murmured
wickedly, knowing the effect his “torture” was
having on her. “Ah, well, clothes can be replaced.”
His knife made short work of the shirt, breeches and
undergarments soon leaving his proud female pirate
in nothing but her boots with her long raven hair
cascading down her stiff spine.
______________

Walking behind her, he ran his palm down her

smooth back and over the satiny softness of her
buttocks, admiring the firmness beneath their soft
covering. Trailing around to the front, his fingers
blazed a path across her flat stomach. She was
mouthwatering. Her slender waist narrowed to lush
hips and on from there to long slim legs encased in
black boots to the knees. The sight was
intoxicating, and his body couldn’t be any more
responsive to her charms. He was beginning to
wonder who was torturing who!
Frankie resented his touch, and welcomed it at
the same time. With her eyes blindfolded, she was
left to the world of sense and touch, an unnerving
situation, yet highly exciting to her. She found she
wasn’t afraid…only determined not to let him win.
“There is quite an assembly of ah… “implements
of torture” left here, ma petite, shall we try some
out?” Jacques asked silkily.
“Go to hell,” seethed Frankie, not sure what he
was talking about.
“Perhaps the bite of the lash will soften your
will, hmmmm?” Jacques took a whip from the wall.
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 Frankie trembled. Surely, he would not whip
her! She waited in silence, wondering if the next
moment would bring the lash of the whip across her
back. She gasped in surprise when she heard the
evil hiss and the following stinging burn across her
bottom cheeks.
“I should have known you were the kind of man
that would beat a woman,” she sneered, starting to
get scared in spite of herself. The lash bit into her
buttocks again, a little harder this time. She
squirmed but refused to cry out.
“You are mistaken, ma cherie,” whispered
Jacques in her delicate ear. “I would never beat a
woman, any woman…let alone a woman as beautiful
as you. You are made for other things.” His mouth
worked around from her ear to her lips and tried to
kiss her again.
She jerked her head away. “Then what do you
call that?” she snapped furiously. He hadn’t really
hurt her…yet. But it didn’t do any harm to let him
know how she felt about it.
Jacques ignored her complaint. “Since you don’t
wish my kiss on your lips, I shall deliver it…other
places.” He lowered his head to suckle first one,
then the other of the rosy peaks jutting into the
air. He smiled wickedly when soft moans escaped
her lips.
Moving to her rear again, he held the lash in one
hand and held a foot’s length of the end of it in the
other and snapped her harshly across her bottom
cheeks, leaving a thin welt this time.
“Oh!” yelped Frankie this time, the pain coming
sharp and hot.
“There is more than one way to spank a naughty
woman,” he teased, “and you have been very
naughty, ma petite. You have much to answer for.
He lashed her again, leaving another burning welt.
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 “No,” she moaned.
“Oh, yes!” Swish! “This could all have been so
much easier…” Swish!... ”if only you had not been
so stubborn…” Swish!
Frankie danced inside her ankle cuffs as the lash
splayed across her bottom. She stubbornly refused
to cry out again.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
The cracks of the whip end across her pert
bottom were not severe but they were very
uncomfortable for Frankie. Jacques had no desire
to mark or hurt her unduly, just to teach her a
lesson. “Well, ma petite, have you nothing to say
for yourself?”
“I hope you are enjoying yourself, you monster,
for one day I will kill you!” she bit out shrilly,
twisting her body and trying to avoid the painful
lashes that he was still applying.
He laughed. “No, ma petite, I think it might be
you who is enjoying this more than you will admit.”
He stopped the lashing and ran his fingers down the
cleft in her cheeks to feel the wetness between her
thighs. “Do you want to know about your mother?”
“You know damn well I do,” she said in ragged
gasps. His fingers were driving her crazy.
The torturing fingers had found the source of her
womanhood and were gently playing with the soft
nub of flesh. "Then ask…nicely."
“Tell me about my mother,” she yelped, trying
to wiggle away from him. There was only so far she
could go in the ankle shackles.
“That is not asking, ma petite, that is
demanding.”
He removed his hand and began to spank her,
his palm bouncing off her rounded cheeks, and
though she squealed in pain, still she would not
ask. He had to admit she certainl y was stubborn.
223
 “You need to learn respect,” he said evenly as
his hand continued to dance around her cheeks and
move down the backs of her thighs, leaving red
handprints all over them.
Frankie screeched then, unable to keep back the
yells choking in her throat. The backs of her legs
were unusually sensitive, and she jutted her hips
forward, trying to get away from the punishing
contact. Still, she did not ask, but stood there
whimpering and panting when he finally stopped,
her proud head hanging down between her
shoulders as she drew in ragged breaths. The tears
trickled down her cheeks, but she refused to look at
him.
Finally, Jacques walked up behind her and
cupped her now warm buttocks, then slid his hand
lower once again. He dipped his finger inside her,
sliding easily in and out. “As I said before, my
proud pirate, I think you must be enjoying this
torture, perhaps that is why you are so stubborn?”
He laughed as her head shot up, and her eyes
flashed daggers at him. He sighed exaggeratedly,
“Ah, you leave me no choice, ma amie.”
“What are you doing,” she panted suspiciously
as he came to the front of her and knelt down, his
hands going between her thighs.
“I will make you ask,” he assured her. “If not
one way, then the other.” He smiled then and his
mouth and tongue began to explore her
womanhood, teasing, tasting, taunting. She
moaned as he tormented her, his finger sliding into
her moist heat.
Frankie bucked and rocked, unable to escape
the long arm around her slender hips that held her
in place; she felt her body climbing, tensing, and
reaching. She didn’t know what he was doing to
her, but she didn’t want him to stop now.
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 “Please,” she begged, not knowing what she was
pleading for. “Oh, please, Jacques,” she begged
shamelessly, her hips rocking against him. She
didn’t even realize she was calling him by his first
name. Suddenly, he paused, and she groaned in
frustration.
“Noooo…don’t stop!”
Jacques smiled and moved slightly away from
her. “ASK!” he demanded.
Trying to bring herself under control, she panted
hard, but refused to ask. Her body trembled with
the effort of resisting the completion of her desires.
“Such sweet torture, eh, ma petite?” He
chuckled and bent to his task once more, torturing
her once again, bringing her body to the edge of
release. She needed it so badly that she squealed
when he pulled away again. “ASK!” he demanded
of her.
She cried tears of frustration, but refused to do
as he ordered.
He began to spank her then, hard sharp
spanks…as his mouth once again bent to his task,
determined to overcome her stubborn will. When
the spanks stopped, and he dipped his fingers once
again inside her silken sheath she broke. “Please,
damn you! Please tell me what you know of my
mother! Please, please,” she begged.
Of course, Jacques knew she was begging for
much more than information, and he gladly
complied bringing his proud lady pirate to the
fruition of her desires. She screamed as wave after
wave of pure pleasure shook her body from head to
toe, and she gave in to the delights of the flesh.
______________

Once she calmed, he quickly took off her

restraints and picked her up in his arms, taking her
226
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to the bed recently made with fresh soft bedding
and placed her in it. He covered her with the light
blanket and kissed her tearstained cheeks. “Sleep,
my fierce pirate Captain. When you awake, you
shall have your wish.”
Frankie was tired, very tired. His gentle touch
and kisses soothed her, and she slipped into much
needed, restful sleep.
As she slept, Jacques stepped outside to meet
Frenchy, who had never really left.
“Is she all right?” he asked, his brown eyes
worried.
“Of course, she is all right,” returned Jacques.
“You must know I would never hurt her.”
“Oui, Jacques, but I also know your fierce
temper when roused. I trust you would not be
overly harsh.”
“She is a stubborn wench, but even she cannot
resist forever. She finally did as I asked; now we
have to tell her what we know. Although I suspect
there is more you know than I do, am I correct my
old friend?” Jacques asked, his keen eye gazing at
Frenchy.
“Oui,” replied Frenchy heavily. “All the secrets
were not mine to tell, so I have kept some things
back that were between me and Victoria alone.”
The two men talked quietly for a while, then
Jacques clapped Frenchy on the shoulder. “Come,
let’s talk to her, I promised her that much. You can
tell her what you think she needs to know.”
______________

Inside, Frankie was just waking up, a feeling of

well being permeating her body. When she felt the
soreness in her buttocks against the sheets as she
rolled over, it all came rushing back. She winced as
she sat up and looked around. Two pairs of eyes
228
stared at her, one dark and the other brown.
Quickly, she pulled the sheet up above her breasts
and stared back, wide-eyed.
“There are some things you need to know, ma
petite,” said Frenchy quietly. Then he told her of
the lean times in Paris when he had been thrown
out on his own, with no one to care for him or care
if he lived or died. It had been much longer than
the brief time he had told Jacques about that he had
known her mother.
They had met in the park in Paris, she a lonely
wife and he a lonely, bereft man. They had fallen in
love and continued to meet, and finally began to
have an affair. She never told him her name other
than it was Victoria. He never pressed her for
information; he just loved her, held her when she
was unhappy. Her marriage was a good marriage
she had said, one of convenience but no love and
unfortunately…no passion. It wasn’t until she had
met Frenchy that she had come to life.
Six months was all they had before she
disappeared one day. Frenchy had waited. Waited
for a month, but she never returned. Finally, he
had taken to the sea, figuring her husband must
have found out about them and spirited her away.
He had never seen her again, until that fateful day
when the Nemesis had attacked the French ship.
She had been overcome with shock and horror,
and he had rescued her and brought her aboard the
ship, protecting her fiercely, keeping her safe from
all who would seek to harm her.
“And you’ve kept her for all these years?” hissed
Frankie. “Mon Dieu, how could you? She must
have been frantic to return. Even if my father and I
were killed, there was still Kat. How could she
desert her daughter?”

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 Frenchy looked sadly at her. “She doesn’t
remember anything before that day, Frankie. It’s
as if she began to live the day she met me again.
Her memory is gone and has not returned.”
For once in her life, Frankie was speechless.
She stared at him with shocked eyes, huge in her
ashen face. Her fingers trembled on the edges of
the sheet she had pulled to cover her nakedness,
her hair in disarray around her creamy shoulders.
“There is more, ma petite.” Frenchy said
quietly. “When we were together, she became
pregnant. I knew she was pregnant, and I was
happy for her. You have to know that we did not
know whom the baby belonged to. It wasn’t until
you and Kat showed up here that I realized she had
delivered twins.”
“Are you saying…that you…you are our father?”
croaked Frankie disbelievingly.
“No, I am not saying that. She was with her
husband as well during that time, but I have noticed
a few things. You and Kat are completely different.
And I don’t know what the Duke of Frontenac
looked like, but you have the same birthmark that I
do…and in the same place.”
He walked over to her and gently touched the
small star shaped birthmark just behind her left
shoulder. Then he pulled the sleeveless shirt back
from his brown muscled arm and turned towards
her. He too had the same mark, just as he had
said.
Frankie stared in fascination, then whispered.
“Kat looks like our father, while I look like Mother.
We never thought more than that.” She shrank
back as if horrified at the thought that her father
might not be her father after all.
“I am sorry, Frankie,” said Frenchy sadly. “I see
the idea of me possibly being your father and your
230
mother’s memory loss is more than you can absorb
at this time. I will go and let Jacques comfort you.”
He stood up and walked to the doorway. He turned
back to stare at the raven-haired girl who looked so
stricken, her eyes lustrous with unshed tears, and
his heart hurt inside his massive chest.
“I just want you to know, ma petite, if I am your
father, that I could not be more proud of the strong
and beautiful woman you have become. I would be
most proud to call you daughter anytime you chose
to acknowledge me.”
______________

He left then, and Jacques walked to the bedside,

almost as stunned as Frankie at the revelations he
had just heard. Frenchy had said nothing of all this
before. He reached out and brushed his fingers
against her cheek. “I will let you get some more
rest, ma amie,” he said gently.
He hesitated a moment, then he spoke again. “I
will not apologize for the chastisement I dealt you,
for you were most deserving. I don’t know when I
have met a more headstrong, stubborn woman, and
you angered me by sleeping with the Spaniard as
well.”
When she said nothing still, he turned away to
leave, but felt his fingers grasped. When he turned
back to her she whispered one word to him, “stay.”
Jacques hesitated only briefly. “Move over,” he
said gruffly, lying down beside her as she turned
over on the bed. Then taking her in his arms, he
tucked her spoon fashion against the warmth of his
body, and he could feel her trembling. Moving the
sheet aside, he tucked her in more closely to his
warmth, trying to ease her chill and covered her
again.

231
 With his arm tucked beneath her full breasts, he
could feel her breath moving in and out of her
body. Her satiny rounded bottom fit snugly into the
curvature of his body, and he felt his shaft growing
hard at her closeness.
He bent down to plant a nibbling kiss along her
scented shoulder, her hair tickling his face.
“Jacques?” came the breathy voice, so low he
could barely hear it.
“Oui, Mon amie?” he replied hoarsely. He didn’t
know how much longer he could hold this position
and remain sane.
“I did not sleep with Pedro.”
“No? Then why have you not told me this
before?”
“It’s not important, I just wanted you to know.”
Jacques rolled her onto her back and looked into
her eyes. “Frankie, why?”
She closed her eyes and sighed, her voice
almost a whisper. “I think I wanted you to be
jealous.”
The womanly scent of her, the naked body and
her comment were too much to resist. He looked
deep into her eyes as his hand slid between her
legs. Gently, he began to rub and tease her, feeling
the moisture already forming. Her legs fell open to
admit him more fully, and she moaned softly in her
throat, her eyes closing.
“There is no need to make me jealous, ma
amie,” he whispered throatily, and his head dipped
to taste the delicate buds of her breasts, then he
moved over her and claimed her lips. When they
broke apart gasping, he went up on his knee to
spread her legs more fully to admit his body
between her silky thighs.
Frankie’s eyes went to his manhood when he
knelt above her, and she gaped at the size of him.
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She had never actually seen a man full and hard,
his shaft throbbing gently as if having a life of its
own. She reached down to touch him, full of
curiosity.
“Don’t do that, ma amie, or it will all be over too
quickly,” he growled, pushing her back and claiming
her lips again.
Frankie felt the hard shaft against her
womanhood and the touch excited her. She
moaned and rubbed against it, feeling that heat and
desire building again. When his mouth suckled at
her breasts she bucked up against him, hot and
moaning. She felt him probing at her womanly
opening, and she gasped as he began to enter her,
forcing the muscles to stretch in a manner
previously unknown to her.
Jacques entered her slowly, knowing he was full
and hard and perhaps quite large compared to
some, and he wanted to give her body a chance to
accommodate him. He was surprised, however,
when he felt the barrier, holding him back. She was
a virgin!
He groaned, but it was too late to stop now; he
couldn’t hold himself back again. He bent to kiss
her deeply, and when she was enthralled in the
middle of the kiss, he thrust forward, breaking that
barrier and moving past it to seat himself within
her.
Frankie squealed in surprise and pain, the
pleasure on hold for the moment as her body
absorbed this new development.
“Shhhh, it’s over now, no more pain, ma
amie…now, there will only be pleasure.” He looked
into her wide shocked eyes and smiled. Slowly,
very slowly, he began to move within her, watching
her. He saw her eyes change color, moving to the

233
deeper hue, and her lids began to droop, as passion
once more demanded her response.
Gently, he stroked, slowly, allowing her to take
a little more of his length each time until she was
gasping and rising to meet his thrusts allowing him
entrance to every velvety inch of her.
Frankie moaned and rolled her head from side to
side as the steady rhythm of his long slow strokes
began to increase, building, bringing her body to
that breathtaking peak that all lovers seek.
It seemed to Jacques an eternity of pleasure
until he finally felt her spasm, her nails raking his
back as she shrieked in surrender, her body bucking
and thrashing. As she subsided, he looked down at
her and smiled. “Now, ma amie, it is my turn.” He
quickened his strokes, making them more
deliberate. Soon, he was taking her hard and fast,
her full breasts bouncing with each thrust. When
her head began to whip from side to side, and she
began to keen high and soft, he knew she was
coming again, and he came with her, his cry of
pleasure mingling with hers.
Jacques moved up beside her, and they lay
together, her head on his chest. It was then the
door flew open and boots came crashing up the
stairs. The door to the chambers flew open, and
Kat rushed in, sword drawn and ready to fight. She
stared in shock as Jacque grabbed his pants and
jerked them on.
Frankie gasped and grabbed the sheet to pull in
front of her as she stood up. “Kat, what are you
doing here?” she asked breathlessly.
“I might ask you the same question,” Kat
responded, her eyes blazing. “I heard you were
being held against your will, and I came to get you
out. I guess I was wrong.”

234
 Frankie turned red. “You don’t understand,
Kat.”
“No, I don’t,” said Kat evenly, trying to gain
some semblance of control and failing miserably. It
was all too much…too fast.
She had come back to the ship after her tryst
with Macalister to knowing stares from the crew.
Pierre was trying to deal with the Spaniards that
had taken the oath to Frankie, but were getting
disgruntled because Kat and Frankie both were off
somewhere else instead of on board doing their
jobs. Hers and Frankie’s lack of leadership were
making them restless, and they were questioning
the experience and skills of their captain. In
actuality, they were seeing a chance to finagle
power and chasing after it relentlessly.
Pierre had been waiting with bad news for her.
One of the Spaniards had informed them of the
wedding of Mace Delarouge to the woman who had
been Kat’s rival before she left. He hadn’t w aited
for her after all his promises. They had taken too
long to get back, and now Kat’s love was married to
someone else.
When one of the crew had come rushing back
saying Frankie had been arrested and was being
held prisoner, she had gathered her knives and
sword and come to rescue her, with Pierre right
behind her.
That blasted Frenchy wouldn’t let them in, but
she had finally gotten past him…but for what?
This? This was the ultimate betrayal…Frankie in bed
with LaSalle. LaSalle, the man whose blood they
had sworn to see! The man who had caused her
beloved father’s death! And the man she had quite
possibly lost the love of her life over…Frankie was
bedding him!

235
236
Disgust, hatred and anger filled Kat, swelling up like
bile, and she could feel herself losing control.
Something clicked inside her, and she suddenly felt
numb, her only desire…to see this man dead!
Her voice dropped to a deadly tone. “At least he
is well hung, Frankie, I hope you have enjoyed it…it
will be the only opportunity you get.” She raised
her sword and started towards LaSalle, but Frankie
moved in front of him and reached out towards her
sister.
“Don’t.” It was a single hissing command that
left Frankie frozen in place. Kat’s eyes were a deep
glittering green…different than Frankie had ever
seen.
Shocked at this change in her sister, she tried to
appeal to her. “You don’t understand, Kat, we need
to talk.”
“Step aside, Frankie,” ground out Kat, her eyes
wild as the pressure crashed in on her. “I don’t
want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”
“I can’t do that,” Frankie said bravely, standing
in front of Jacques who was trying to push her
aside.
“Get out of the way, Frankie, I don’t need a
woman to protect me,” snarled Jacques, “and I
won’t have you hurt!” He shoved Frankie aside and
quickly dodged a swipe from Kat’s sword as she
slashed at his midriff. A small line of blood
appeared where her blade made contact.
An instant later and Pierre was inside the door.
“Stop this at once, Kat!” he thundered. It was all
the distraction Frankie needed, and she threw
herself at Kat, knocking the sword out of her hand.

237
 Chapter Thirteen

Kat screamed a wild banshee scream as Pierre

looped his strong arms around her from behind,
lifting her off the floor while she struggled and
fought like a demon against him.
He grunted as several kicks from Kats booted
heels caught him in the shins, but he held her until
at last, her struggles began to slow down, and her
bright head sank back against his shoulder,
accepting his superior strength.
Pierre let her down gently then, and turned her
into his breast. Kat simply stood there looking
small and defenseless, her eyes closed, panting
heavily. He looked coldly at Frankie, his eyes
raking disdainfully up and down her naked figure
with the sheet in front of it. “You have betrayed us
both, Frankie. You have allowed yourself to become
the enemy’s whore, I hope you are pleased with
yourself.”
“But you don’t underst…” began Frankie, her
eyes shining with tears. She held out her hand in
mute appeal, beseeching him to understand, but
Pierre turned away from her. Lifting Kat in his
strong arms, he strode out the doorway and down
the stairs.
Morg had been changing clothes when Rosalie
knocked on the door. “Sir, Nigor is here, with news
from the docks.”
“Thank you, Rosalie,” replied Macalister, as he
slid on clean breeches. “Tell him I’ll be right there.”
Morg’s thoughts were still with Kat. He pictured
her lying beneath him on the banks of the pool
where he had carried her from the silken warm
waters and laid her on the heavy grasses on their
clothes.

238
239
 Again, he had taken her, but this time there had
been tears when she climaxed, and he had sensed
deep hurt inside her. She had gazed at him through
those wet emerald eyes, and he had seen the
vulnerable little girl that missed her father terribly
and raged at life because she couldn’t control it.
She was like dynamite, volatile and easily set
off. But he knew that once her loyalty was won,
she would give her life for the one she loved. He
found himself wishing to be that man, but what of
his own troubled past?
Rage and pain had sent him to the sea, just like
Kat. When the Laird of Castle McKenna had died,
he had left his clan with one instruction
only…everything he owned was to go to his
youngest son…meaning he, Mathias Morgan
Macalister, including the clan leadership.
However, after his father’s death, his Uncle had
called upon the ancient written laws of the clan that
would put his oldest brother in charge. The ancient
laws had three conditions. One, the inheritor had to
be a son of the previous Laird. Two, he had to have
possession of the Laird’s ring with the crest of the
Macalister clan on it when he laid claim to his
inheritance. And three, if there were a reasonable
dispute, there would be a duel and winner would
take all in a fight to the death. It was a harsh law,
but one that was developed in harsh times when
pride and power ruled the clans.
The old man had died when Morg was away and
when he had returned; his oldest brother had taken
the ring. Knowing what his father had wanted,
Morg had challenged Canton to the ritual duel.
Canton had long been suspected as a
troublemaker among the clan because he was an
illegitimate son of Sir Creighton Macalister and, as
such, was not happy with his lot. He knew he never
240
really stood to inherit, and it angered him; and that
anger burned within him like a poison.
Morg never intended to kill Canton, merely to
win the contest and reclaim his inheritance.
However, Canton had no such honor. The night
before the duel, Morg’s food and drink were laced
with a slow acting poison, designed to weaken and
eventually kill if not discontinued.
The next day, his younger sister had begged him
not to go through with the duel, but he could not
refuse. If he opted out of it, he could not challenge
his half-brother again. It was the law.
With Morg’s reflexes and senses slowed, Canton
had eventually defeated Morg and prepared to
strike the final deathblow when Eileen had stepped
between them. His younger sister had saved his
life, much to his shame and dishonor.
Morg had left Scotland then, no longer able to
stand the loss of his honor and reputation. Canton
never failed to rub in the fact that he had used his
sister as a shield, and the clan members looked
down upon him, feeling him not fit to be leader. He
had been nineteen years old.
Now, at twenty-seven, he was no longer a
callow youth, and he could see where he had been
set up, and he too burned for revenge, just like
Kat. Age had brought a wisdom and maturity that
he had lacked in his younger years, and he now
understood how easily he had been duped. One
day, he would return to Scotland and claim his
rightful place. But he would have to kill Canton to
do it.
Right now, he had nothing to offer Kat, no lands
or titles that would befit a French heiress and
daughter of a Duke. He was nothing…just a
pirate. He had no right to tie her down or ask her
to love him. Nevertheless, he wanted her to be
241
his. She burned in his blood, and destiny had
brought her to him, he could feel it in his soul.
Grimly, he pushed his troubled thoughts aside
and went to meet Nigor.
“There is trouble at the docks, Sir,” Nigor said.
He stood with his hand on his sword, a man
comfortable only with a weapon close at hand.
“What is going on, Nigor?” Morg led the way
into the drawing room to pour them both some rum.
“It’s that woman pirate captain, Sir. She
attacked LaSalle’s man Frenchy in the Nasty Grubb
about two hours ago.”
“Why?”
“She seems to think Frenchy abducted her
mother,” Nigor replied. “That’s what the men said.
I had some of the boys take her to the jail. LaSalle
agreed to deal with her, but I thought you’d want to
know.”
“Yes, thank ye, Nigor. I need to know what’s
happening on my island.”
“There’s one more thing, Sir. Her sister, the
red-haired one…she has gone to the jail to free the
Captain. Her uncle tried to stop her, but she was
adamant. She was very angry and swearing
revenge at last, for incarcerating her sister.”
Morg’s eyes narrowed, and he quickly tossed
back his rum. Kat was a time bomb waiting to
explode, and he didn’t want her hurt when she did.
He left the house and mounted his horse, turning it
towards the jail. “Nigor, get a couple of men and
meet me at the jail, just in case we need them,” he
shouted.
He brought his horse to a grinding halt as Pierre
came out of the jail, carrying Kat in his arms. His
heart leapt in his throat. “Is she alright?” he bit out
dismounting quickly.

242
243
 “She is not physically hurt,” Pierre replied
grimly. “But she is exhausted mentally I think. She
needs to rest.”
“Give her to me,” demanded Morg, mounting his
horse and holding out his arms.
“I’m not sure…”
“Give her to me!” Morg insisted again, his green
eyes fiercely devouring Kat’s supine form.
Pierre was a wise man. He saw the love in
Morg’s eyes and sighed. He handed Kat up to him,
albeit reluctantly. “No one was hurt, do not
castigate her.”
“I have no intention of causing her harm in any
way,” Morg replied. His gaze locked with Pierre’s
for a moment, and then he turned the horse away
and headed towards his manor home.
Pierre watched them go, his gaze brooding.
“You may not intend to cause her harm monsieur,
but you will. She is already half in love with you
and caught between two worlds.” He shook his
head and began to walk back to the Aphrodite.
“Mon Dieu, what is to become of my nieces?”
The pain hit Frankie like a physical blow.
Dropping the sheet, she wrapped her arms around
her bare stomach as if to ward it off. “Mon Dieu,”
she whispered, “what have I done?”
"She will get over it, Frankie," murmured
Jacques, enfolding her in his warm embrace. “But I
do not like Pierre calling you a whore. If he were
not your Uncle, I would run him through.”
“Isn’t that what I am?” Frankie asked painfully.
“Isn’t that what women are when they are not
married, and they sleep with a man?” She pulled
away from him and began to dress in his clothes,
looking around for something to tie his pants
around her waist. He had cut her clothing to
shreds!
244
 “Stop it, Frankie,” he snapped, grasping her
shoulders, his dark eyes burning as he addressed
her bent head. “I won’t allow YOU to speak of
yourself that way either. Do you hear me?” He
shook her slightly, her bare breasts swaying,
causing his loins to tighten once again.
“No, YOU stop it!” She pulled away from him
and grabbed his oversized shirt and stuck her arms
into it. When she grabbed the shirt, her pants fell
down, and she cursed in frustration, her hands
shaking. “Merde!”
Jacques ran his fingers through his hair and
sighed in exasperation. “Wait here,” he ordered.
He went to the room where he had spanked her and
gathered up her belongings and brought them
back. Picking up his pants, he threaded her belt
through them and then held them up for her while
she stepped into them.
Neither of them said a word as he yanked them
up and tightened the belt around her small waist,
then put her boots on. When she had rolled up the
sleeves of the shirt and strapped her sword on, she
pushed past him towards the door.
He grabbed her by the elbow and spun her
around. “This is NOT over! I don’t want you to
leave like this, Frankie.”
“Let GO of me,” she demanded hotly, wanting
nothing more than to get away from him at that
moment before she did something stupid like cry.
Her feelings were very chaotic, and she needed to
find Kat.
Jacques stared at her in frustration. He wanted
to say so many things, take her away where they
could be alone and make love to her again, but he
knew she was distracted with her family’s
reactions. She needed time to sort herself out. He
dropped her arm.
245
 “Go, then, ma amie,” he said heavily. “But, we
will talk soon, you can be assured of that.” When
she had walked out the door on the bottom level, he
slammed his fist into the wall.
Frankie made her way back to the Aphrodite,
warring between anger and sadness at the
situation. Pierre and Kat’s words had cut her
deeply. She knew Kat had slept with Mace
Delarouge, yet they called her a whore. And neither
of them knew the situation yet because they had
refused to listen to her.
She stalked up the gangplank of the Aphrodite,
intent on making Pierre and Kat listen to the things
Frenchy had told her. She stopped suddenly as
three Spaniard’s stepped in front of her.
“So, the Captain puta returns at last.” A tall
lanky Spaniard gave the insult, his dark eyes
scornful and looking for an opportunity to take
over. He didn’t dare take on Pierre, but the woman,
that was a different story. And, since she was the
Captain, his fight was with her, anyway. His two
buddies stood deceptively at rest behind him. At
his words, all went quiet, and the other
crewmembers close by paused to watch.
If the Spaniard had known Frankie’s state of
mind, he might not have chosen this moment to
confront her, but fate being what it was, he sealed
his doom by opening his mouth.
He spat at her feet and laughed. “I called you
the puta and I don’t serve under no woman, let
alone a puta. It’s time a real man took command
since old Pierre can’t seem to handle his women.”
His lustful eyes appraised Frankie. “I can show you
how a real man pleasures a woman, senorita, if I
don’t kill you first of course.”
“Hold it right there,” snapped Pierre, coming up
behind Frankie. “Get back to work!”
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 The Spaniards shuffled their feet uneasily, but
they stayed bravely in place.
Frankie held up her hand to silence Pierre, never
taking her eyes off the man facing her.
“So,” she said smoothly, her voice soft and low
like cream dripping off a cat’s whiskers. “You have
visions of grandeur, little man? Very well, arm
yourself and let’s see who is best fit to captain the
Aphrodite.”
If he had been an astute judge of women’s
character, he would have recognized the taunt of a
woman who had confidence in her abilities, a
woman…who was used to winning.
Apparently, he didn’t, a grave mistake on his
part, thought Pierre, standing back to let Frankie
handle it.
The Spaniard smiled evilly and drew his sword.
It was over almost before it began, the man’s pitiful
attempts thwarted immediately under Frankie’s
controlled fury. With deftness born of skill and
practice, she pierced his lungs almost immediately,
and he fell to the deck, gurgling in his own blood.
The other two gaped in astonishment and then
as if on hidden cue, they both drew their swords
and advanced on Frankie. She couldn’t defeat both
of them at the same time! She was a woman.
Still, the battle did not last very long, and
another soon lay at her feet. The third dropped his
sword and backed up after his comrade fell.
“So…you think you can’t serve under a woman?”
Frankie asked as she advanced on him. The light of
battle fury glittered strongly in her eyes.
He continued to back away, scrambling in his
haste. “Please, Captain, I…I meant no harm…eet
was Jose! Jose wanted to be the Captain!”

247
248
 Frankie reached out and slammed the butt of
her sword into his jaw. “Get off my ship! I won’t
have a sniveling coward and a liar aboard. GO!”
she commanded.
The Spaniard leapt over the side of the ship and
began swimming for the dock.
Frankie replaced her sword and stood there,
staring out to sea. She started when she felt
Pierre’s hand on her shoulder, and she heard him
say softly, “I am sorry for the things I said,
Frankie…it was…such a shock to see you with
LaSalle. I would not have believed it if I had not
seen it with my own eyes.”
“There is much to discuss, Uncle Pierre,” replied
Frankie tiredly. She looked at him with sad eyes,
knowing that she had turned a corner with her
behavior, one she wasn’t sure she was ready to
face.
She could never go back to her old way of life,
now…no man would have her…not if he knew. She
went on. “Our mother is alive, but I’m afraid I have
some shocking news for you and Kat.”
“Whatever it is, we will face it together, ma
petite,” Pierre replied, pulling her into his arms.
“Just as we have the last five years.
Frankie sighed and allowed Pierre to hold her.
“How is Kat?”
“She will be fine. She has just had a lot to deal
with the last few days. She is very volatile and
feels very deeply. In spite of the defiant front she
puts on, she is easily wounded on the inside… She
hides that with her aggressive behavior.”
“I know,” replied Frankie, pulling away from
Pierre. “I love her very much and have no desire to
hurt her, but my feelings for Jacques are changing.
I don’t want her to keep trying to kill him.”

249
 “That is obvious, ma petite,” he chuckled, “as is
Kat’s with Macalister. I think she cares for him, but
won’t admit it to herself, or anyone else.”
Frankie sighed. “I need to bathe and change
clothes, then we will talk.”
They walked together towards the girls’ cabin.
“By the way, you had a visitor this morning.”
Pierre said. “A very pretty girl named Rosalie. She
is a servant in Macalister’s mansion.”
“What did she want?” Frankie asked curiously.
“She wants you to teach her how to defend
herself.” Pierre chuckled and shook his head. “I
believe you and Kat have an admirer.”
“She should have just asked you, Pierre, you are
the master.”
“There comes a time when the master can teach
the pupil nothing further. Then the pupil becomes a
master. You will be a fine teacher, Frankie, and Kat
too for that matter. You don’t need me any longer.”
Frankie wrapped her arm affectionately through
her Uncle’s. “You lie, Uncle Pierre, we shall always
need you. If not your skill, then your wisdom.”
“The only real regret I have is not teaching you
to submit to discipline,” he replied chuckling. “You
could both use a good spanking now and then.”
Frankie scowled at him. “Do NOT even mention
spanking! For that I should cut your tongue out!”
She walked away, one hand clutching a bottom
cheek as she swore softly under her breath.
Pierre chuckled in satisfaction. “Well, at least
one good thing has come out of her relationship
with Jacques LaSalle.”
Kat was numb, her mind refusing to accept what
her eyes had seen. How could her sister do this to
her? How could Mace do this to her? And how
could she have given herself to a pirate like

250
Macalister? The whole world had turned upside
down, and nothing made sense anymore.
Gradually, she became more aware of the
movement of the horse beneath her, the strong
arms of Macalister holding her while they made
their way up the path. He was taking her to his
home. She sighed, too tired to fight anymore. She
lay with her left ear against his chest, and she could
feel his heart beating…strong and steady.
Gradually, her eyes closed, and she went into a half
sleep state.
Finally, they reached his stable, and his mount
stopped when he clicked to it. Picking her up
against his chest, he kicked his feet free of the
stirrups and lifted his right leg over the saddle to
slide off the horse.
Kat stirred against him and protested slightly,
not wanting to move from the warm haven she felt
all around her. When he gripped her tighter, she
relaxed again, her small hand clutching his shirt.
He took her into the stables and sank down on
the soft fragrant hay in the corner. She sighed into
his chest, and he held her while she slept.
Morg knew he should put her to bed in the
house and let her sleep while he did his rounds, but
he couldn’t bring himself to let go of her. Every
time he shifted she mewled in her sleep like a kitten
looking for warmth and moved closer to him.
He saw the shadows under her lovely eyes and
realized she must not have been sleeping well, and
her rest now was from exhaustion. If he were to
leave her, she might not sleep any more, and she
obviously needed it. Slowly, he allowed himself to
drift off with her.
Kat woke slowly, trying to remember where she
was. She felt a warm chest under her cheek, and
she remembered that Morg had taken her away
251
from the jail. The pain of Frankie’s betrayal sliced
through her again, but not as sharply now.
She remembered the pain in Frankie’s eye’s and
her attempts to explain. She needed to find her
sister and talk to her. No matter what Frankie had
done, she still loved her, and it hurt knowing how
her actions must have hurt her sister.
Slowly, she sat up and pushed her hair back
from her face. She was lying on a pile of fresh hay.
She turned and looked down into a pair of gleaming
green eyes, staring at her, studying her.
Morg tried to gauge Kat’s mood. She seemed
calm, rested. He hoped she was better. He sat up
and tried to draw her into his arms, but she
stiffened.
“There are things I need to do,” she said
awkwardly, resisting him.
“Aye, lass, and I as well.” He stood up and held
his hand out to her. “Come on, I’ll drop ye at the
ship if that’s where ye be wanting to go.”
He knew nothing more would be gained at this
point, and she and her sister must need to talk.
That is, if LaSalle was finished with her. Frankie
might still be under arrest for all he knew, but he
doubted it.
Most likely, LaSalle had given the lass a good
thrashing…and maybe something else as well.
Perhaps that was what was behind Kat’s extreme
distress. If so, he could understand how she would
be feeling confused. Frankie was supposed to be
here to kill LaSalle, not bed him.
They saw Frankie at the railing of the Aphrodite
as they approached on horseback, her expression
unreadable. It looked as if LaSalle was finished with
the lass for the moment then, he decided. He’d just
make his way over there and find out what
happened.
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 Maybe it was time he looked into this business
of Kat’s mother. It was also time for a celebration
party. They had bested the Spanish Fleet and come
away with plenty of gold and riches, time for the
rum to flow and the island to make merry. Maybe
they could all forget the demons that plagued each
of them for a while…if only for a short while.
After Kat had bathed and changed clothes, the
girls and Pierre met in the cabin for a conference.
It was time for Frankie to let them in on what she
had found out.
“This is very hard to believe, Frankie,” Kat spoke
at last into the silence. Frankie’s announcement of
Frenchy’s affair with her mother had shocked her.
“Not really, Kat,” murmured Pierre, his brow
furrowed in concentration. “That would be about
the time Gatineu suspected Victoria of seeing
another man and had her taken to the country. Not
being a fighting man, he simply removed her from
Paris and never tried to find out if it might be true.”
“But how could he be our father?” protested
Kat. “I look nothing like him at all! I look like my
father!”
“Then how do you explain the birthmarks?”
Frankie asked, puzzled. “I look like mother, but I
could just as easily belong to Frenchy. We are both
tall and have dark hair.”
“I believe it would be possible for you to have
different fathers,” Pierre interjected. “It happens
with animals, why not with people?”
“But…but…we are better than animals, Uncle
Pierre!” Kat replied heatedly.
“Frenchy did say she was with both men during
that time,” reminded Frankie. The dismay she had
felt at Frenchy’s announcement was not as sharp as
it had been before, but still she felt a sense of loss.

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 She had loved her father, but what if he wasn’t
her father after all? What did that make her? She
stared at her hands, feeling bereft and lonely.
Pierre, sensing Frankie’s distress reached out
and put a large palm over her small hand. “It
doesn’t change anything, Frankie. There is no way
to prove it is or isn’t true, and as far as Kat and I
are concerned, you are still the same as you always
were.”
She smiled weakly at him. “If I am not my
father’s, then I don’t have any right to his
inheritance or his name. It should belong to Kat
alone.”
Kat spoke vehemently. “Yes you do, Frankie!
Everything is still half yours, you are my sister and
my twin…whether half or not. I don’t care! That
will never change! And you will always be Frankie
Fontaine. Father never made any attempt to deny
it, so it’s true as far as I’m concerned!”
“Well, since Victoria is actually the inheritor, she
is the one who would be leaving everything to you
girls. Even legally, as her daughter Frankie, you
would be entitled to your share.”
“I don’t really care about the money, Pierre,”
said Frankie quietly. “I just want to see Mother, to
know that she is alive. Then maybe things will feel
normal again.”
“I understand of course,” Pierre agreed. “I
guess we wait then.”
No one said what was on all their minds. What
if they had spent the last five years of their life
looking for Victoria Fontaine, only to find that she
didn’t know them? And maybe never would!
Later on, Frankie stood at the railing looking
over the moonlit sea. She started when Kat
appeared at her elbow.

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255
 “Frankie, I am sorry about earlier. I did not
know, and I…I lost control.”
“It’s not your fault, Kat. It just happened…like
so many unexpected things have happened since
we got to the Hideaway.”
“Are you in love with LaSalle, Frankie?”
“Are you in love with Macalister?” countered
Frankie softly, her eyes glittering as she turned to
face her twin.
“I…I don’t know,” ventured Kat hesitantly. “I
thought I loved Mace, but my feelings for Morg
are…much stronger even than I had for Mace.” She
looked at Frankie. “Besides, didn’t Pierre tell you?
Mace married the bitch. Or, so they say. Who
knows what to believe anymore?” Kat spoke
bitterly, turning towards the sea, allowing the night
breeze to gently sweep her red gold curls away
from her face.
“I’m sorry, Kat, I didn’t know.” Frankie
impulsively put her hand over her sisters and
squeezed it gently. Then she embraced her, their
foreheads touching one another in comfort.
“It’s all right, Frankie,” whispered Kat as she
pulled away. Then she flashed her sister an
impudent grin. “At least, we can give those two
pirates a headache can’t we?”
Frankie threw her dark head back and laughed
delightedly. “That, we can, my dear sister, that we
can!”

256
 Chapter Fourteen

The next day the island was abuzz with the

Governor’s announcement of a celebration to be
held that night. The beach near the glade pool was
designated as the party site, and huge tables were
being set up to hold all the food.
Huge pits had been dug and wild pigs were
lowered into coals and covered with plantains and
then buried beneath the sand to slowly steam and
roast all day.
Gas lanterns were set strategically around to
light the coming night and by mid afternoon, the
smell of roasting pork wafted on the wind, making
people hungry.
Big kegs of rum were rolled into place so people
could drink freely. Wild fruits of every kind were
gathered, and the island women had already set
about making breads.
Frankie and Kat decided to visit the local island
shop. It hadn’t been open very long, but it did have
all kinds of goods available, and they wandered
among bolts of brightly colored fabric.
Frankie was studying an interesting floral design
when a voice from behind startled her. Turning,
she saw Rosalie, the servant girl from the
Governor’s mansion smiling at her.
“I can help you with a dress,” she offered. “The
island designs are simple to make and don’t take
very long.” Her doe soft eyes were curious, and she
studied the pirate captain in great detail. “And in
return, you can teach me to fight.”
Frankie laughed at the young girl’s eagerness.
“So you wish to learn to fight? I think that will take
much longer than making a dress for this evening,”
she teased lightly, liking the girl’s warm smile.
“But, all right, you have a deal.”
257
 The three girls were just leaving the shop when
Morg and Jacques stepped in front of them.
“What have we here?” Morg teased. “The three
prettiest girls on the island nae doubt?” He looked
around for Rosalie’s escort as the girls smiled warily
in return.
Rosalie dropped a curtsey to Morg, her head
bent.
“Where is your escort, Rosalie?” he asked
sternly.
Rosalie flushed and stammered. “I…I saw the
pirate sisters walking along the docks and wanted to
talk with them, Sir.”
“And?” Morg queried silkily, folding his arms
across his chest.
“And, I…I…hurried down here to catch them. I
did not bring an escort, Sir. I am sorry…in my
haste, I forgot.” She put one bare foot behind her
ankle, her slim brown fingers playing with her
apron.
Kat and Frankie watched curiously, feeling sorry
for the poor girl. Jacques had moved up to Frankie
and whispered hello in her ear, and she smiled
tentatively at him. They hadn’t spoken since
yesterday. Her heart beat faster at his nearness,
and his palm on her hip made the skin tingle. She
was reminded of that same palm burning his
message into the tender flesh of her buttocks the
day before.
“I believe I gave explicit instructions that ye
were not to walk alone beyond the mansion, didn’t
I, lass?” He reached out and lifted her chin to look
in her eyes. “Ye have disobeyed me.”
“Come now, Macalister,” said Frankie heatedly.
“Rosalie is going to show us how make an island
dress. We’ll see that she gets home all right.”

258
259
 “That is nae the point, Captain,” Morg responded
darkly. “The lass disobeyed an order given for her
safety. Now, she will be punished.”
“You mean a girl is still not safe to be out and
about on your island,” Kat said delicately, stressing
the your as if it were an insult.
“It is never safe for a lass to wander about
alone, and that includes ye as well,” returned Morg,
his green eyes glittering. “But ye at least have the
ability to defend yourself, Rosalie does not. And I’ll
thank ye not to interfere with the correction of my
staff.” He turned back to Rosalie. “Ye may show
the ladies how to make the dresses, and when they
deliver ye back home, report to me for your
punishment.”
“Y…yes, sir,” Rosalie replied looking ready to
burst into tears. She curtsied again. “Thank you,
sir.”
Morg turned back to Kat. “And, as for ye, little
one, ye best watch that sharp tongue, or ye’ll be
eating your dinner standing up tonight as well.” Not
giving her a chance to answer, he turned as Nigor
called to him.
______________

Kat watched indignantly as he strode away. She

had known immediately what Rosalie’s punishment
would be, and she didn’t envy her. She studied the
male buttocks and the well muscled calves of the
back of his legs and felt her breath quicken. His
broad shoulders set him apart from the crowd, and
she loved watching him move. Sighing heavily, she
turned back to the trembling Rosalie. “Don’t worry,
Rosalie, it won’t be all that bad.”
“Yes it will,” whimpered Rosalie, her hands
clutching her buttocks. “The last time was awful! I
don’t want to be spanked again!”
260
 “You should have thought of that before you
defied your master,” replied Jacques lazily, smiling
at Frankie. “Morg is right, the docks are no place
for a woman alone. Not even two women really.”
He eyed Frankie and Kat meaningfully.
Frankie snorted indelicately. “If you think Kat
and I are going to sit aboard ship and be sacred to
walk down the docks, you are crazy,” she declared.
“We will go where we want to, when we want to!”
“I’m not going to argue with you, ma petite.
But, if you get into trouble again, I will spank you
again! You just remember that.”
Frankie’s eyes shot daggers at him, but he just
bent and kissed her lips, whispering against her
mouth. “I will see you tonight, ma amie. I can’t
wait to see the new dress.” He turned then and
followed Morg.
“Men,” spat Kat disgustedly. “They think they
know everything.”
The other two agreed with her, and they turned
to go. On their way to the Aphrodite, Pedro stepped
into their path.
“Buenos Dias,” he said cheerfully. “And how are
the three most beautiful senoritas on the island
today?”
The girls looked at each other and snickered.
“We’ve heard that line already today,” Kat said,
eyeing him mockingly.
“That’s only because it is true, senorita,” he said
gallantly. “I merely add my accolades.” He eyed
Rosalie speculatively, and she flushed under his
gaze.
“Hello, Pedro,” Frankie greeted. “I’m happy to
see you are up and around. When are you leaving
for Spain?”
“Alas, my lovely one, I am under island arrest
until further notice, by order of the Governor, of
261
course. I have even been assigned a guard by
Captain LaSalle.” He motioned with his thumb over
his shoulder at the pirate who was standing a short
distance behind him, watching them and looking
bored.
“Besides, I’m sure going home at this point
would not be a good idea. The Spanish crown will
be less than pleased to have lost their treasure and
ships. They might even hold me responsible. They
would certainly want to know who was responsible
for hijacking it.” He smiled pleasantly but the smile
did not reach his eyes.
Frankie felt a shiver of apprehension. Although
she would never wish Pedro dead, Jacques’s adage
of “dead men tell no tales” ran quickly through her
mind. She had paid her father’s debt, which was
required. The rest would happen as fate decreed.
“Perhaps we will see you at the party tonight
then,” Frankie answered with a dismissive smile.
The girls turned to go.
Pedro stared after them, his eyes enigmatic.
“Indeed you will, my lovely, indeed you will,” he
muttered under his breath.
______________

The girls boarded the Aphrodite, rather quiet

and subdued, each lost in their own thoughts.
Pedro had brought back the reminder that they
were wanted in their own country and that life for
them would never be the same.
Rosalie, sensitive to their mood, broke the
silence. “Don’t worry. All things in life happen for a
reason.” Her soft brown eyes were encouraging as
she spoke to her new friends.
Kat tried to shake off her mood. “Of course, you
are right, Rosalie! No point in looking back. All
good things go from here, right?”
262
 Frankie nodded, feeling a bit gloomy. She tried
to put sad thoughts about her mother aside as she
too smiled at Rosalie. “Yes, yes you are right…and
tonight we are going to have fun!”
“Exactly,” Kat crowed. “We may not have our
old beaus, but like we agreed before, we can sure
give a couple of pirates hell tonight can’t we,
Frankie?” Her emerald eyes glittered with mischief.
“But, of course, my dear sister, of course!”
Rosalie chuckled. “I think I’m going to like you
two.”
Pierre smiled as he heard the girls laughing. It
was good to hear that sound. There had been so
little of it in the last five years!
None of them had any idea that Kat’s prophecy
was about to come true.
A few hours later, Frankie twirled in front of the
mirror, liking the freedom of movement the island
skirts and tops afforded them. Rosalie had shown
them how to tie the colorful tops in a crisscross
across the breasts, tying in the front and leaving
their midriffs bare with the two ends of the tie
hanging to the waist. The long skirts wrapped
simply around their waists and ended with a band of
fresh flowers around their ankles.
Frankie’s pattern was bright green foliage on a
black background. Vivid red flowers were peeking
from among the green foliage, and it complimented
her blue green eyes and raven hair perfectly.
Kat on the other hand, was dressed in a white
background with splashes of pink and orange
among the green. Redheads might not look good
normally with pink, but Kat’s red gold curls and
creamy sun kissed skin set off the color to
perfection.
Both girls were equipped with knife bands
beneath their long skirts and white orchids in their
263
264
 hair. The scent wafting around them was lovely,
and Pierre was delighted to see them looking and
smelling so feminine.
“Mon Dieu, but I had forgotten how truly
beautiful my nieces are,” he said in admiration.
“Jacques and Morg won’t know what hit them.” He
chuckled in delight.
The made their way up the beach, the candles
and lanterns giving off plenty of light, their
stomachs growling at the smell of pork being freshly
drawn from the pits.
“I can’t remember the last time I had two such
beauties on my arm,” remarked Pierre. “I’m sure
I’ll be the envy of every man there.”
The trio was unaware of other eyes that watched
their progress, eyes that were hidden among the
jungle growth…eyes with plans.
They soon made their way into the middle of the
festivities and looked around for a place to sit.
“There have to be hundreds of people here,”
murmured Kat, looking around for Morg.
“Boy, that’s for sure,” agreed Frankie, her eyes
seeking Jacques.
Rosalie suddenly appeared at their side, her
warm brown eyes filled with excitement. “This way,
we are seated at that table, and we saved you some
of the few chairs on the island.” She waved to a
low table near the platform that had been erected,
and Morg and Jacques both stood up when the
group headed in their direction.
“How are you feeling tonight, Rosalie?” Kat
whispered to the girl at her side. She looked at her
sympathetically.
“I’m okay…my bottom is sore, but I am fine. I
will make it a point not to sit too much tonight,
though,” she laughed lightly.

265
266
 Morg had met her in the entranceway of the
mansion after the girls had dropped her off and
crooked his long finger at her. Her heart beating
rapidly, she had meekly followed him into his
study. The next few minutes had found her over his
broad thighs, her buttocks bare and elevated while
his hard palm had bit into her creamy bottom
cheeks, turning them bright red as he reiterated the
dangers of going about alone.
A few minutes in the corner, sobbing and
holding her skirt up, and he had called her back to
his desk. There, she had held onto the other side of
it while ten swats of his “paddle” had burnt their
message into her sitting area. She had howled in
pain and vowed never to leave the mansion alone
again! Blushing, she tried to brush those thoughts
aside and concentrate on having fun.
______________

Morg found his white shirt restricting at the neck

as he watched Kat approach. She moved so
sinuously, like liquid grace, he could barely take his
eyes off her. He studied her carefully and
compared her to Frankie. No, it was true; the girls
looked almost nothing alike. After speaking with
Jacques and Frenchy today, he had finally gotten
the story of their mother. Both girls were
lovely…but it was Kat that took his breath away.
Rosalie was young and temptingly lovely as well,
and he was glad he had put a guard on her and
Alyssa tonight. Alyssa was darkly beautiful, and she
had been his devoted friend after he had pulled her
from a mass assault situation years ago.
She had been here to help him when he had
decided to build a settlement and a hideaway for he
and his fellow pirates. The British government had
gotten wind of his scheme and had wanted in on the
267
profits in return for backing him when he needed
help. He had run under their Lettres de Marquee for
years, so he had agreed.
Tonight, with the rum flowing freely and an
island full of randy pirates, all women were fair
game. The evening was young and anything could
happen. He had been feeling uneasy all day again,
and he wondered if it had anything to do with these
feisty women. Shaking it off, he smiled down at his
little spitfire as she approached him.
“Good evening, lass. Ye are looking
exceptionally lovely tonight.” He took her hand and
drew her to his chest and dropped a kiss on her full
pink lips. His loins tightened as he inhaled the
fragrant scent of her, and he began planning how
soon they could be alone.
Jacques was stunned. He too had stood when
the girls approached, but he had been unprepared
for the assault on his senses when he saw Frankie
once again. He took her hand and bowed, placing a
kiss on it. “Good evening, ma amie, words cannot
describe your beauty. I salute you.”
“And here I thought chivalry was dead,” teased
Frankie, pleased at his formality. His bow was
worthy of the French court. She curtsied in return,
her heart like a trip hammer in her chest.
“Beauty such as yours can bring new life to
many things,” Jacques murmured wickedly in her
ear, his hardness straining at his breeches.
It was much later, well beyond dinner and the
enjoyment of a pleasant evening when Jacques and
Morg were called aside on some business.
While waiting for their return, Frankie and Kat
decided to take Rosalie with them for a walk to the
pool in the glade. “Maybe we can even sneak in a
naked swim,” Kat whispered to the other girls.

268
 Giggling, the girls had just stepped into the
foliage when Pierre called out to Kat, motioning her
back towards him. “I’ll be right back,” she muttered
to the other two, irritated that Pierre would
interrupt her. “He probably wants to tell us not to
leave the party.”
“We’ll wait here,” Frankie promised. She and
Rosalie had been partaking freely of the rum too,
and she was pleasantly relaxed. It was unexpected
when she was suddenly seized from behind, a hard
arm around her middle and a piece of cloth jammed
into her face. She fought to breathe but the
drugging scent of laudanum filled her nostrils, and
darkness quickly closed in on her.
Frankie awoke slowly, the effects of the
laudanum slowing her senses. She was in a launch
that was being pulled up onto a beach that she
didn’t recognize. Where was she? What had
happened?
She tried to move and realized her ankles were
tied with heavy ropes, and her wrists were tied in
front of her. She felt warmth against her side and
slowly turned her head to see Rosalie lying beside
her. As the cool breeze danced across her body, she
realized her
scarf top was gone, leaving her breasts bare and
exposed to any lascivious view. She shivered.
Suddenly, strong, thick arms came beneath her
back and legs, lifting her from the launch. "What a
pretty sight," came a husky voice, and she felt a
tongue lick her nipple. With a gasp she shrank back,
as far as she could while being carried in a pair of
tree trunk arms.
"Don't touch her," roared a cold voice Frankie
had never heard before. “Chandler said they were
to be unharmed and untouched.

269
270
 "That’s not fair," rumbled the deep voice of the
man carrying her. "I don’t want to hurt her, just
have a little fun with her.”
“Take it up with Chandler,” Cold and hard
replied. “In the meantime, keep your mouth off
her. There are plenty of tavern wenches to slake
your lust on. Women like these are for selling and
bartering with.”
Frankie heard Rosalie gasp and moan and
realized she must have been awake and heard their
comments. The poor girl must be scared to death,
she thought. She wasn’t any too happy herself, but
she had learned long ago to focus and channel your
fear and make it work for you. Her arms and legs
felt very sluggish, and she couldn’t think very fast
yet. She knew it was the effects of the laudanum
and that it would wear off eventually.
Frankie tried to pay attention to where they
were going, but she didn’t recognize anything. Still,
she had to keep her wits about her, so she could
help when Jacques came after them…and she knew
he would.
She had a gut feeling he would probably spank
her for leaving the party, but even that was
preferable to what these men seemed to have in
store for her.
She closed her eyes and prayed that he would
be able to find them, and that he wouldn’t be hurt
or killed. She should have listened to him and Morg
earlier and stayed at the party.
Her heart twisted at the idea of Jacques being
killed, and she was very much afraid it was because
she was falling in love with him. She didn't want to
be in love with the bossy, demanding pirate, but her
body had betrayed her, and she was afraid it was
too late.

271
 At least, Kat hadn’t been taken, probably only
because Pierre had called her back. Thank God for
small favors anyway.
It wasn’t long before they entered what
appeared to be a massive cave entrance with three
tunnels leading off in different directions. They took
the right fork and finally came into a large well-lit
room. The men dropped Frankie and Rosalie on a
soft pile of blankets and pillows.
"Stay with these women," instructed Cold and
Hard to a couple of the men hunkered in front of a
small fire. "And, don't touch them. If you do, it will
be your lives." He turned and strode out with the
men he had come in with.
Frankie shook her head, trying to clear the last
of her vision. She struggled to get to her feet and
finally made it to a standing position. One of the
men from the fire saw her standing and came over
to her, his greedy lustful gaze fixed on her breasts
where the nipples were peeking through her dark
hair.
"What’s this," he leered at her, his fetid breath
filling her nostrils. He reached out and fingered the
bud between his thumb and forefinger, making her
gasp in indignation and jerk her tied hands up to
knock him away.
"Keep your hands off me, you smelly goat," she
hissed through her teeth.
He grabbed her hair and jerked her head back
cruelly, his dirty mouth slamming into her tender
lips, splitting one of them. Frankie tried to turn her
head, but he ground his mouth against hers. When
he lifted his head, she spat in his face.
"You need a lesson in manners he snarled,"
backhanding her across the face, catching her
cheekbone with his ring.

272
 Frankie gasped and fell to the floor, feeling the
taste of blood in her mouth and a warm trickle on
her cheek.
"You fool," snarled the other man, taking out his
sword, "you were told not to touch those women!"
He rammed his sword into the gullet of the man
who had slapped Frankie and the pirate sank to the
ground as the other men returned to the room.
"What's going on," roared Cold and Hard,
striding over to the girls and the man with the
bloody sword.
"He tried to kiss the wench, and she fought him,
then he slapped her," returned the other man, "so I
killed him."
Cold and Hard swore softly and grabbed
Frankie’s chin to look in her face. "Mon Dieu! I told
you two not to touch these women!
He saw the swelling on Frankie’s face, the blood
coming from the cut on her cheek and split lip, and
he was furious. "It’s a good thing you killed him or
you would both be dead right now," he hissed.
“I see you have the women,” came another hard
voice and the group looked up as a massive man
strode into the room.
“Oui, Captain Chandler,” agreed Cold and Hard.
“We have them.”
Chandler took one look at Rosalie and swore.
“You bloody fools! I told you to get the sisters! You
only have one of them. This girl is not the one
Macalister is interested in. I should have you shot!”
“My apologies, Captain, but it was dark, and we
saw the girls come into the forest. Since they go
everywhere together, we assumed it was the sisters
when we recognized the Captain.”
“Get rid of her,” hissed Chandler. “I want the
red-haired one, the one Macalister is bedding. That
will insure he comes after her.”
273
 “What do we do with this one?”
“Give her to the men for all I care!”
Rosalie trembled as two pairs of hands reached
for her, but Frankie moved in front of her. “Wait!
This girl is under Macalister’s protection. If you
value your lives, you will not touch her,” she
snapped, her eyes spitting sparks.
“I recognize her, now,” added Cold and Hard.
“She is the wench who works in his mansion.”
“Hold it!” barked Chandler to the men who were
grabbing at Rosalie. “Perhaps we can use her after
all.”
The men muttered among themselves, but they
backed off, and Frankie felt relief course through
her. They were safe for the moment, but for how
long?
She noticed Rosalie’s top was missing also, and
realized they must have taken them for
identification to Jacques and Morg. She shivered
and kept her arms up to shield her breasts.
Chandler quickly assigned two more men to
watch the girls and turned towards the tunnel.
"Come on, we need to finish the preparations. It's
only a matter of time before LaSalle and Macalister
figure out where we are, and I mean to be ready for
them.”
“Get those cannons up on the hill ready and
make sure the rear entrance to these tunnels on the
other side of this island is well guarded. Get the
Lady Queen into position to ward off the Nemesis.
See that the Spaniard has his ship positioned at the
back of the island. I don't want LaSalle or Macalister
getting near here without me knowing about it!"
“Oui, Captain,” replied Cold and Hard. The two
men left together, leaving the girls alone again with
their guards.

274
 On the moonlit path to the mansion, Morg and
Jacques stared at Monique, the bar wench from the
Nasty Grubb. “Are ye sure about this, Monique?”
Morg asked gruffly.
Monique looked stealthily around her. “Yes, I’m
sure, Governor, I overheard Chandler giving orders
to some men out back of the pub when I was going
to empty the trash. I have sharp ears, and I didn’t
let on like I had heard anything at all, but I did.
“Getting the bastards’ women,” was the way he put
it, and I heard him mention Captain Frankie and
Miss Kat specifically. Something is going to happen
tonight, and I wanted you to warn you, Sir.”
Monique’s eyes were dark in the moonlight as
she chatted with the two men. She had paid a
couple of boys to get Morg’s attention and bring
them to the mansion path where she could talk to
them privately.
There were too many eyes at the party; a
person could wind up dead passing on secrets. But,
Monique liked the woman Captain and her sister,
and didn’t want to see anything bad happen to
them.
“Thank ye, lass, ye will be well rewarded for this
if something is afoot. Now we’d best be giving ye
back to your men there and be on our way. We’ll
be alert now, though, thanks to ye.”

275
 Chapter Fifteen

Jacques and Morg returned to the party in time

to see Pierre and Kat arguing.
“Pierre, we are just going to the pool, it’s no big
deal, and there are three of us,” argued Kat.
“I don’t want you girls out of sight,” growled
Pierre, craning his neck to see where Frankie and
Rosalie had gone. “I already can’t see Frankie and
Rosalie, have they gone on ahead?”
“Of course not,” Kat snorted. “They will wait for
me.”
“Where is Frankie?” demanded Jacques, a fission
of fear running along his spine after Monique’s
cryptic warning.
“She and Rosalie are waiting for me on the path
to the glade pool,” replied Kat scornfully. “Pierre
called me back…”
“Explain to them, Morg,” ordered Jacques as he
turned and ran quickly towards the path, his hand
on his sword.
“We have reason to believe an attempt may be
made on Frankie and Kat tonight,” said Morg grimly
as he lit out after Jacques. “Stay here!”
But, Kat and Pierre were already behind him,
both concerned about Frankie, immediately.
Jacques had only run a few yards along the path
when he saw it. Drawing his sword, he approached
cautiously, looking around him. Morg was right
behind him, and then Kat and Pierre.
Grimly, Jacques walked forward and pulled the
sword out of the ground, sliding the paper and the
scraps of material off the point.

276
277
 “Mon Dieu,” squeaked Kat. “That is from the
dresses Frankie and Rosalie were wearing tonight.”
Her face went pale.
Jacques read the note. Be prepared to surrender
control of the Island and the Nemesis by morning,
or you will never see your women again.
“Where is the Governor? I need to find the
Governor,” came a frantic voice from behind them.
Morg ran swiftly back towards the party. The
others followed. He strode quickly to the young
man who was yelling. The panting boy had blood
running from a shoulder wound, and he was
staggering. People were clearing a path for him.
“What is it, lad?” demanded Morg, grabbing the boy
by his shirtfront.
“There’s trouble…at the docks,” he panted.
“The Lady Queen has been stolen, as well as two of
the Spanish Frigates we took!”
Morg and Jacques began running towards the
docks, with Kat and Pierre right behind them. The
scene there was chaotic. There was a ship burning
in the dock, and men were trying to put it out, other
men were milling about, and the cries of the
wounded rang in their ears.
Nigor came running up to Morg. “Sir, I came to
the docks, and the Lady Queen was gone. Many of
our faithful men are dead. They returned from the
party after too much rum and were cut down, many
before they even drew their swords.”
“Who is behind this,” roared Morg, his face
reddening in frustration. “I’ll have their scurvy
hides for this!” He turned to Jacques. “Do you
have any idea who would want the Nemesis enough
to take Frankie?”
Jacques dark eyes glittered in the moonlight.
“Like you, I have many enemies, Monsieur, it could
be any number.”
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 ______________

Beth came running up to Morg, her blonde hair

flying out behind her, her slender figure on winged
feet. “The Spaniard is in on this nights work,
Governor Macalister,” she panted handing him a
note. “I found his guard in the hallway of the Inn
with his throat cut, and he was gone, but this note
was pinned to his chest.”
Morg took the note and scanned it. I have a
better offer from Captain Chandler than the one you
have given me, Senor Macalister. See you on the
gallows, one way or another. Captain Pedro
Morg swore and crumpled the note into a ball.
Jacques spoke harshly. “If Chandler is in on
this, it could well be because I refused to give him
second in command of the Nemesis. If he had
stayed long enough, I would have given him
another ship, but apparently, he has bigger
aspirations.”
“Aye, he not only wants the Nemesis, but the
whole damned island as well,” Morg snarled.
The Captain of a docked British frigate was
listening to the exchange. “Thomas Blackthorn at
your disposal, gentlemen. The Hawk and her crew
are prepared to help you in any way you need.”
Morg shook hands with the British Captain.
“Thank you, Captain, as soon as I find out what we
are up against, I’ll let you know.” He looked around
as if searching for someone.
Alyssa knew the moment he was ready for her,
and she stepped out of the crowd. “You needed
me?” she asked softly, her black eyes glittering.
“Yes,” Morg answered simply. “I need your
knowledge.”
Kat’s eyes narrowed as she perused the island
woman. It was uncanny the way she had just
279
appeared when Morg seemed to want her. But, no
matter, if the woman could help get Frankie back,
she would bless her name.
______________

Jacques stared out over the sea. Where had

they taken Frankie? He would find her…of that he
had no doubt. Chandler would not be so foolish as
to harm her, he was too big a coward.
But, the Spaniard, that was a different story.
He had the feeling there was more going on than
they knew of, and the Spaniard wanted Frankie. He
had seen it in his eyes the morning he had gone to
the hotel room to confront them. If he had not
been wounded, he would have taken her while he
had the chance. No, it was too coincidental.
Frankie was more than bait for him, he was sure of
it.
He felt a quick stab of pain in his heart. He had
known her such a short time and already she was a
part of him. He couldn’t lose her now. Whatever it
took, he vowed he would find her. He swung his
attention back to what was going on, he needed to
be apprised of all strategic tactics.
“Let’s go to the Princess,” said Morg, taking
Alyssa’s arm. “We need to look at the island charts
and figure out where they may be.”
“You do know it’s a trap, don’t you?” questioned
Alyssa, her dark eyes enigmatic.
“Of course, otherwise they would not have been
so cryptic in their messages.” Morg’s eyes glittered
with anger. “They know we will not just sit here
until morning, they will expect us to find them.
That also tells me they are well prepared and
planned this in advance.”
He turned towards the Princess, and Pierre fell in
step beside him. “Kat and I are coming with you.”
280
281
 “No!” Morg cut in. “I don’t want Kat at risk. Its
obvious they thought Rosalie was Kat when they
took her. You keep her here, Pierre, I don’t want
her getting abducted too.”
“I’ll not stay behind when my sister is in
danger,” snarled Kat. “What kind of person do you
think I am? To stay and hide while Frankie could be
sold as a slave or god knows what?”
“Not this time, lass,” Morg said heavily. He took
Kat’s small chin in his hand. “I’ve no doubt ye have
plenty of courage, but I need to know that ye are
safe. Besides, I’ve nae doubt we will have plenty of
use for the Aphrodite once we figure out what’s
going on and where they’ve taken the lasses.”
“Frankie is my responsibility,” said Pierre
gruffly. “Like you said, this is all a trap. Whoever
this Chandler is, he wants you two dead. You are
going to need all the help you can get.”
“You are not a pirate, Pierre,” said Jacques,
studying his old mentor. “Let me handle this, and
I’ll see that neither the Spaniard nor Chandler
return. I will bring Frankie back.” His dark eyes
were cold, and Pierre had no doubt he meant
exactly what he said.
Pierre’s voice dropped with deadly menace.
“Hear me well, LaSalle, I will stay with Kat and the
Aphrodite, but if Frankie does not come back with
you, I will kill you myself.”
With that, Pierre took Kat’s arm and strode
away.
______________

Frankie felt beneath her skirt, but as she had

figured, the small knife she had strapped on was
gone.

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283
 “What are we going to do?” asked Rosalie, her
terrified eyes dark in the dusky light of the cave. “I
don't want to be sold as a slave!”
“Come closer, and I'll start working on the knots
on your ropes. Perhaps we can get our hands free,”
whispered Frankie.
The girls heard the sound of booted feet coming
through the entrance, and they looked up to see
Pedro coming inside. He walked over to Frankie a
cheerful grin on his face. He frowned when he saw
the cut on her cheek. “They were not suppose to
hurt you!” he seethed, reaching his fingers out to
touch her face.
“What are you doing here, Pedro?” hissed
Frankie, jerking her face away from his touch.
He shrugged his shoulders. “You might as well
know, chica, I am saving you for my partner, Sheik
Rasheed. He will not be happy to know your band
of pirates took his treasure, but I’m sure when he
sees you, he will forgive me for losing his gold.
Chandler and I struck a deal. We help each
other, and I get you girls. Unfortunately, we did not
get your sister; that would have made my revenge
more complete. But, I will use Rosalie as a
substitute. Rasheed will be delighted to get two
such lovely women for his harem.”
“I see,” returned Frankie. “You offered Chandler
your leadership of the Spanish sailors to get your
ships back and to steal back as much treasure as
you could get, and in return, he gets bait to get
revenge on Jacques and take over the island, very
convenient.”
“I see your quick mind has put it together,
chica. I like that in a woman.”
Frankie spat at his feet. “You are a traitor, not
only to Spain, but to our friendship as well. Jacques

284
was right; I should have let him kill you when we
had the chance.”
Pedro’s eyes flashed. “My only regret is not
having the opportunity to appease the hunger that
has burned for you since I saw you on board my
ship. But, make no mistake, by first light; you will
be on my ship, El Diablo, which was taken from the
harbor. You and Rosalie are my insurance for
Rasheed. He loves pale skinned women.”
“So you are using us to save you own cowardly
hide,” snarled Frankie.
Pedro shrugged. “Call it what you like, it will
work and that’s all that matters.” His brown eyes
mocked her. “Don’t pine for your lover, chica, I
hear the Sheik is well endowed and should bring
you much pleasure.” He walked away laughing.
______________

Frankie stared after him, hatred burning within

her. “We have to get free,” she hissed to Rosalie.
She sat back down to work on the other girl’s ropes
as unobtrusively as possible. “Damn, this is going
to take way too long. We need another plan.”
She glanced at the men at the fire and an idea
struck. “I’m going to call them over here and tell
them we need to relieve ourselves. They will have
to untie us for that. Do you think you can help
me?”
“I will do my best, Captain,” whispered Rosalie
fiercely. “I’ll follow your lead, just tell me what you
want.”
“First, we have to get them over here.” Frankie
stood up. “Hey you!”
“What do you want Senorita?” asked the tall thin
Spaniard with a moustache. He eyed her
suspiciously.

285
 “Can you help us please?” Frankie smiled
ingratiatingly at them, tossing her dark hair back
with a jerk of her head.
“Don’t trust her,” the other one snarled. “I’ve
seen her fight.”
Rosalie followed Frankie’s lead. “Oh, please,”
she begged. “We just need to see to our needs,
what harm can we possibly do, we are unarmed?
Please untie us so we can.”
Looking at each other, then back at the girls
standing there half-naked and appealing to them,
the tall thin one could not resist their appeal. “Come
on,” he said gruffly. “We are to take care of them
and keep them in good condition, let them relieve
themselves.”
The men walked over and cut the ropes from
their ankles and then each took a girl by the arm
and led them to another small room off the cave.
The tall one untied the ropes from their hands while
the other stood guard, his sword drawn. When they
were free, he shoved them through the blanket
curtain. "No tricks now!" he warned.
______________

Once inside, the girls quickly huddled. "I want

you to pretend you have fainted," whispered
Frankie. “Then, when they come in here to see
about you, wait for me to attack and then hit the
one checking on you in the temple with this rock."
She pressed a rock she picked up from the cave
floor into Rosalie’s hand.
“Do you really think they will be fooled?” Rosalie
asked fearfully.
“They are Spanish sailors, not pirates. They
have more concern for us than a pirate would, plus
they are under orders to see that we come to no
harm.”
286
 "Okay then,” Rosalie agreed softly. “I will do my
best to help.” They waited a few minutes, and then
Rosalie moaned and slumped to the floor, the rock
hidden at her side.
"Rosalie!" yelped Frankie. "Rosalie, what is
wrong…talk to me!" She began fanning the girl on
the floor.
Hearing the ruckus, the tall thin sailor peered
through the curtain. Seeing Rosalie on the floor, he
swore and ran into the room, the round one right
behind him.
Frankie stood up as the shorter one knelt down
to see about Rosalie. When the tall one looked
down, Frankie yelled, "Now, Rosalie!” Then she
swung with sure aim, hitting the Spaniard in the
temple with the rock she clutched in her hand. He
fell with a groan, clutching the side of his head.
Rosalie brought her arm up on Frankie’s order
and slammed her rock into the side of the round
one’s head, and he too groaned and slumped.
Rosalie quickly scrambled to her feet.
As the men fell, Frankie grabbed the knife from
the Spaniard’s belt and then grabbed Rosalie’s hand
and whirled to run.
"No, Kat, I forbid it!" thundered Pierre, his
bushy brows drawn together in a fierce frown. "You
are NOT to leave the Aphrodite!”
Kat glowered at Pierre, her green eyes glinting
with anger. "We cannot sit here and do nothing!
Mon Dieu, Pierre, I cannot believe you meekly
agreed with LaSalle to sit here and wait! Frankie is
my sister, for God's sake, we HAVE to go look for
her!"
"She is not on the island, Kat! And, Macalister
is right this time, we don’t want to give them the
opportunity to get their hands on you, too.”

287
288
 Kat paced furiously up and down. “I can hardly
take staying here and doing nothing when Frankie is
in danger. They are not going to kill her, of course;
you know that as well as I.”
She continued to pace. “They can make her
wish she were dead, but they will not kill her…not
unless they choose to do it in front of LaSalle for
revenge. Most likely, they will kill him in front of her
and sell her as a slave or worse! We CANNOT allow
that to happen to her, Pierre, we can't!" Kat's voice
ended on a hoarse sob.
"Shhhhh," soothed Pierre, taking her in his
arms. "I know you are scared, so I am. But you
know how resourceful Frankie is. She is never
without a plan, and she is quick on her feet. Let's
think about this logically. They can't have taken her
too far. They must be holed up on one of the islands
around here."
"Have you been here before, Pierre?"
"Yes, I have been around these islands before,
and there are a few small ones, but not very many
capable of defending against two ships like the
Nemesis and the Princess.”
"The docks are full of dead men," replied Kat,
looking grim. "And two of the frigates we captured
in the Spanish treasure fight are gone as well as the
Lady Queen. That means they have the ability to
take on these ships. The question is, where will
they set the trap?”
Pierre went to the chest and pulled out the
charts for the Caribbean area. “Here we are,” he
said, pointing a large island. And here are three
smaller ones. They have to be on one of those, but
it would take a while to check out all three of them.”
“Is there anything special about any of them
that you remember?” Kat was desperate. “Damn

289
LaSalle, I knew Frankie should not have gotten
involved with that man!”
“Sometimes love makes strange partners, ma
petite, and Jacques LaSalle is not quite all pirate,”
said Pierre mysteriously.
“What do you mean?”
“I taught him the sword years ago when he was
but a lad of sixteen. He was...a superior student. He
wasn't a pirate then, Kat.”
“Who is he then?”
“That I am not at liberty to say…what drove him
to piracy is his own private hell.”
“Do you think he really cares for Frankie?” Kat
asked scornfully.
“Do you think Frankie really cares for him?”
returned Pierre smoothly.
“I'm afraid so,” sighed Kat looked dejected.
“Frankie has never shown interest in any man that I
know of. She has lived only to train and find
mother. None have been able to gain her attention,
even before we set sail on this cursed mission. It
worries me, for I fear she is falling in love with
him.”
“Perhaps she has finally succumbed to physical
attraction at last,” murmured Pierre, “and it will
burn itself out.”
Kat looked skeptically at Pierre. “You know
Frankie is not like that. When she gives her body, I
fear her heart is attached, and it will be
permanent.”
“Ah, ma petite, you are so young. Permanence
has a way of changing when life intrudes.”
“Not for Frankie, I’ll bet," replied Kat, her green
eyes glittering. She bent to the maps again. “How
long will it take to circle the islands?”
“Probably not that long, at least once around
before dawn at any rate.”
290
 “Then what are we waiting for?” She whirled,
her feet silent yet determined as she made her way
out the door and towards the wheel of the
Aphrodite.
Pierre grimly followed her out, praying they
would be in the right place at the right time. It was
better than just sitting and waiting.
______________

The men, too, were not happy with just sitting,

and they jumped to his commands as he ordered
them to take them out of the harbor and set a
course for the east and follow the shoreline around.
Macalister had headed west. If he found his target,
the Aphrodite would be in the background, waiting
and watching.
“Where are we, Frankie,” whispered Rosalie,
feeling the darkness all around her like a heavy
blanket.
“I don't know,” replied Frankie, honestly, feeling
her way along in the dark. “But, be careful, I've
heard caves sometimes have holes in the floors,
and you can fall through them.”
“I don't like this blackness. I cannot see my
hand in front of my face!”
“I know, but this is still better than being tied up
and helpless isn't it? We must stay together,
though, so be careful. If you feel like I'm getting
ahead of you, just say so.”
“I will touch my hand to your back so you will
know I am here.”
“This is an island, I assume," muttered Frankie.
“That means these tunnels have to end sometime.”
“Oh, I know where we are,” said Rosalie.
Frankie stopped abruptly, and Rosalie ran into
her.
“What do you mean you know where we are?”
291
 “We are on Kohokia. It is the only island in this
group that has these extensive caves like this. I was
here once, and we came in as far as the main
cavern, but I have never been beyond that.”
“Well, is there more than one entrance?”
“I believe my father told me there was an
entrance at the back side of the island. But it is no
secret. It is rumored a man from the island Chief's
family got lost in here once and ended up coming
out a small opening overlooking the cliffs.”
“Has anyone ever gotten lost in here and never
been found?” Frankie asked, shivering from the
chill.
Rosalie hesitated. “It has been talked about, but
I don’t know it for a fact.”
“Well, lets keep moving, we have to end up
somewhere,” said Frankie uneasily. “Wait, I need to
do something, first.”
The girls stopped, and Rosalie heard a tearing
sound. “What are you doing?”
“I am cutting a strip off the bottom of my skirt,”
replied Frankie. “I do not like walking around with
naked breasts. Here, can you tie this behind my
back?”
Rosalie reached out and felt the ends of the
cloth Frankie was holding at her sides. Quickly, she
tied it off. Then she giggled. “We are in pitch
blackness, and you wish to cover yourself.”
Frankie chuckled with her. “Yes, well, one does
get used to wearing clothes. Hold still, and I’ll cut
part of your skirt off for you.” Finally, modestly
attired once more, the girls kept moving.
“Do you smell that?” Rosalie whispered. It
seemed like they had been walking for hours
without stop. Rosalie was terrified of small close
places, and it had taken all her courage to keep
moving and not give in to her panic.
292
 “What is it?”
“Salt air, I smell the water. We must be close to
an opening.”
“Yes, I smell it now. Be as quiet as you can in
case there are more pirates out there. They may
have known about this opening and have guards
outside,” Frankie cautioned. The girls used their
noses and went quietly forward.
The tunnel veered sharply and became much
steeper, making the climb more difficult. They had
no way to know how long they had been walking, or
even if it was still night.
Taking cautious steps, Frankie came upon the
exit to the cavern and reached out to stop Rosalie
from walking out without checking first. At least,
now, they would have the moon and stars for light
and not the blackness they had spent so much time
in.
Quietly, they listened. Frankie’s sharp ears
picked up the low murmur of voices off to the right,
and she peeked around the corner, and then drew
back. “There are two pirates seated by a fire out
there,” she whispered to Rosalie. “We have to be
careful.”
Silently, the girls slipped off to the left and into
the jungle covering. They made their way quietly a
distance away from the campfire.
“Do you remember anything else about this
island? How big is it? Are there any other natural
shelters where we can hide until help arrives?”
Frankie’s questions were fast and furious.
Rosalie shook her head, “I can only remember
my father talking about the caverns. And, I don't
think this is a very big island. At least, I don't
remember him saying anything about it being
inhabited, so it can't be very big, can it?”

293
 “Well, it might be best if we can find a high
place to hide, so when it gets light we will be able to
see the shore, but also be able to keep an eye on
these scoundrels. They will want us back, but I
don't know if they will take the chance of trying to
find us in the tunnels. We must find somewhere
quickly in case they come looking out here.”
“There,” pointed Rosalie. “Up there…that tree.
It’s tall and has a lot of foliage. They won’t be able
to see us among the leaves, but if we climb high
enough, we can see the beaches…and any ships
coming.”
“Good idea,” Frankie said enthusiastically. “Start
climbing.”

294
 Chapter Sixteen

“This is where they will be,” Alyssa said calmly.

“It’s the only logical place. It’s defendable, and the
cave system will hide the prisoners. They can hold
off an army in that cave if need be, the entrance
tunnel is long and narrow.”
“Are there any other entrances?” Morg asked.
“There is a rear entrance, but it is well known,
and the trip through the tunnels is slow going.
Again, only one or two men at a time can get
through, and there are side tunnels to get lost in
and circle around in if you don’t know your way.”
“That’s it?” Jacques bit out. “Nothing else?”
“There is the cliff side,” Alyssa said slowly. “But
it is not a climb for the inexperienced, and only a
few have ever tried to access it. It can be quite
treacherous.”
“What will they be expecting?” Morg said
calmly. “Let’s look at it from their point of view.”
“They will expect us to come charging in to save
the day, of course,” stated Jacques.
“So, let’s give them what they expect,” replied
Morg silkily. “We send the Nemesis, the Princess
and the British Frigate, the Hawk straight at them.
Then you and I will take one of the smaller frigates
and skirt the backside of the island and try for the
cliff opening.”
“I see,” replied Jacques thoughtfully. “They will
be expecting us to sneak to the back of the island
and be prepared, but they won’t be prepared for the
cliff side.”
“You got it,” Morg said grimly. “All that remains,
is to find the cliff opening, navigate the tunnels,
rescue the girls and bring them back out.”
Alyssa shook her head. This was the Morg
Macalister she knew. Always ready to spit in the
295
eye of fate and come out on top. Loyal to a fault to
those he loved. The girl was important to him
because she was his, if for no other reason than
that.
“What are we waiting for?” Jacques replied
fiercely, the light of battle in his eyes. He would
find Frankie, and when he did, he would slit the
Spaniards gullet like a fish.
The little armada was already past the first
island, and Alyssa knew the island with the caverns
was next. They would soon know if she were
correct.
“There’s one of the frigates,” growled Morg.
“She has spotted us and is no doubt running to
warn the others. Time to put our plan into action.”
______________

Morg sent Captain Blackthorn, Nigor and

Frenchy to the front beaches while Alyssa used their
ships for cover and went on beyond the bay of the
front entrance to the island. She dropped anchor
along the side where the cliffs were, the salt spray
flying as the waves crashed onto the rocks.
“There,” declared Alyssa, “near that large boulder,
see it?” She handed Morg the spyglass and pointed
to the cliff opening, invisible to the naked eye.
“Oui, I see it,” replied Jacques, his heart beating
rapidly as he found it through his glass. Morg
nodded in agreement. They looked at each other…it
was time.
“Stay to the right, away from the rocks to get to
the beach,” Alyssa warned. “I don’t have to tell you
what happens if you get caught in the undertow to
the left.”
The men nodded, well aware of what would
happen. Their bodies would be thrown like rag dolls

296
upon the ragged teeth of the rocks and pounded to
a pulp by the merciless surf.
They could hear the gun battle beginning on the
north side and knew that the enemy had been
engaged. Morg figured they had enough firepower
to defend themselves should they be spotted, and
Alyssa knew where to find them if she had to leave
and come back.
The two men made their way to the beach,
swimming with only daggers and a tar covered
canvas pack strapped to their bodies.
Once they cleared the water and were in the
edge of the jungle, they removed their packs and
took out their black clothing.
Finally dressed, they pulled out the ashes from
the beach bonfire last night and covered their faces
and hands in soot.
“Ever done any rock climbing, LaSalle?” Morg
asked, his white teeth and the whites of his eyes
gleaming.
“Oui, Monsieur, but I am no expert.”
“It doesn’t take expertise to make this cliff, but
it does take concentration.”
“After you,” replied Jacques evenly.
Inch by inch, the men slowly made their way up
the rocky cliff. They carried ropes to tie off at the
top for a quick retreat on the way back.
______________

They could hear the sound of the fighting around

the front of the island, the cannonade shots and the
rifle fire. Once the ships began making their way
ever closer into the bay, the cannons would be able
to reach the mountain and subsequently, the
caverns of the islands. They wanted to be in and
out before that happened.

297
298
 Morg grunted as he finally rolled onto the ledge
and leaned over to give Jacques a hand. They both
sat with their backs up against the wall, panting and
waiting for their breathing to slow down.
Down below, they could see the ship and the
glint of moonlight off the spyglass. Alyssa w as
watching them. Morg grinned and gave her the
thumbs up sign, and then he turned and made his
way inside the inky darkness.
Jacques had tied a rope around his waist and left
the coil outside. Alyssa had told them the caverns
would be dark, and they didn’t want to risk a torch,
it would alert whoever might be waiting in the dark
for them. After several minutes, they saw torchlight
flickering off the wall, and they advanced slowly,
backs up against the cool earthen walls.
Morg moved on panther feet and before the
pirate even realized he had company his throat was
slit, and he was laid quietly to the side.
They froze as the mountain rumbled and small
stones and dust began dropping from the ceiling.
Morg smiled and whispered, “It looks like our crew
has gotten through the blockade. They are starting
to blast the shore. It’s perfect, they will think we
are coming right through the front door.”
THUD! THUD! THUD! Jacques looked around
uneasily as more dust and rubble came down upon
them, but he followed Morg deeper into the cave
system.
“We have to hurry,” he hissed. “The long range
cannons are getting too close to the mountain
already!”
“Aye, I know that,” Morg replied. “I just wish I
knew how long these blasted tunnels are and where
the rooms are!”
______________

299
 “Rosalie, we can’t stay here,” Frankie hissed
fearfully. “Those cannon shots are getting closer.
The last one was only about 100 yards away from
us. They are shelling the front, trying to get in the
front entrance, and the longer cannon are starting
to shell the mountain. We may get killed if we stay
here.”
“I’ve been thinking we should try to get back to
the front of the island,” replied Rosalie uneasily.
“We can’t go through the cave, or over the
mountain in the bombing, so the beach is our best
bet.”
“Agreed, staying here to wait for rescue is out of
the question,” murmured Frankie, watching the
explosion of earth and rocks up the mountain
path. “Come on, let’s go!”
With a last uneasy glance at the mountain, she
began to climb down the tree, wondering once
again where Jacques was, if he was looking for her.
Perhaps, they should have waited by the back door,
but she was sure the back beach was guarded from
the harbor. If only she knew what was going on!
She could help them rescue her and Rosalie a lot
easier if she knew where to go!
Course, at the moment, they weren’t inundated
with choices. She knew they must be making
progress in the battle, or the cannonballs would not
be landing further inland.
“This way,” whispered Rosalie, making her way
swiftly along the jungle path. Both girls were
shocked when the hissing of a cannonball split the
air around them, and they instinctively dove to the
ground. The tree above them splintered and
exploded into a thousand pieces and they covered
their heads with their hands.
Frankie heard Rosalie cry out, and she sat up
quickly. “What’s wrong?”
300
301
 “It’s my leg,” Rosalie answered painfully. “I…I
think I’ve been hit with something.”
“Stay still,” commanded Frankie, trying to
inspect the back of her legs. “Where did it hit
you?” The air was filled with dust and she tried to
see from the moonlight filtering through.
“My right thigh,” whimpered Rosalie.
Frankie pulled the skirt up and felt along
Rosalie’s thigh, and she found it, a piece of jagged
wood protruding from the flesh about two inches
wide and a half inch long. She realized she could
not tell how deeply it was imbedded. She grasped it
gently with her fingers and gave a small tug to see
if it would slide free. She felt warm liquid on her
fingers and realized it was bleeding.
“OW…DON”T!” gasped Rosalie, trying to roll
away from her. “That hurts, badly. Don’t touch it!”
“I’m not sure I can anyway,” Frankie grated in
frustration. “I can’t even see what the hell I’m
doing! Can you walk at all? We can’t stay here!
We need light and water to see this. If it’s
imbedded in an artery, we don’t want to pull it out
until you are with a doctor.”
“I…I don’t know,” cried Rosalie, trying to be
brave. “Help me up, and I’ll see.” Frankie bent and
helped her to a standing position, and the skirt fell
back over the edge of the wood, causing her to cry
out again.
“Here, let me cut that skirt off, it’s only in the
way right now, anyway,” Frankie said decisively,
quickly cutting the long skirt to just below Rosalie’s
buttocks. “There now, try to walk.” She put her
arm around the girl’s waist as she put her weight
down on her right leg.
Rosalie gasped and moaned, but she managed
to limp back with her left leg. "It hurts...really
badly,” she whimpered, her eyes full of tears. She
302
looked at Frankie. “Just leave me, Captain, go on
without me. I’ll find a place to hide…they won’t find
me. I’m good at hiding. I’ll just slow you down.
You can go get help and then come back for me.”
Her soft brown eyes pleaded with Frankie.
“I’m not leaving you,” replied Frankie
determinedly. “Here, put your arm around my
shoulders. I’ll help you.” Leaving Rosalie was
unthinkable, but Frankie was proud of her courage.
They both knew she would have a hard time
surviving the shelling, let alone dodging pirates bent
on recapturing her. They were almost to the beach
when a mocking voice sounded behind them.
______________

“So here you are. I knew you had to be along

here somewhere. It is only logical to head for the
beach when the mountain is being shelled.”
He walked around the girls to face them, his
eyes cruel and triumphant. “Time to leave,
Frankie.” He motioned to one of the big men
beside him. “Take the young girl.” He stepped
closer to Frankie. “I’ll take that knife in your
waistband, chica, and if you try anything, Rosalie
will pay the price…is that clear?”
Frankie glared furiously at him, but she knew
she was beaten for the moment. Pedro had four
other men with him, and she was hopelessly
outnumbered. Besides, she didn’t want to leave
Rosalie. She watched in frustration as her friend
was lifted effortlessly into the big man’s arms.
When they reached the beach, Frankie let a
piece of cloth from her dress drop unnoticed from
her fingers. It had her blood on it from the cut on
her face. When and if Jacques found it, he would
know Pedro had taken them. His ship, El Diablo,
was harbored just off the back of the island.
303
 As the last man pushed the launch into the
water and jumped inside it, she turned to stare at
the island, willing Jacques to come into view. She
could hear Rosalie softly whimpering in pain behind
her, and she felt like whimpering herself. Her heart
was heavy, and her eyes burned with unshed tears.
Would she ever see him again…was he already
dead? And what would Kat and Pierre do without
her? She had come so close to finding her
mother…but it looked like fate was trying to snatch
that victory out of her hands once again.
Rosalie felt so helpless. Her leg was throbbing,
frustration burned like a brand in her heart, and she
was terrified; these despicable pirates had captured
them once again. Frankie had lost her knife to
Pedro, and they were without a weapon; the only
good thing being they hadn’t tied them up again.
He must figure he had them well and truly captured
this time.
Frankie was sitting backwards in the launch
beside Pedro, and Rosalie caught her eyes. Was
she trying to tell her something? She shifted to her
left hip, trying to keep herself off her right leg as
much as possible.
She returned Frankie’s hard stare, trying to
fathom her eye movements. It was obvious the
lady pirate wanted her to do something, but what?
Suddenly, she realized what she meant, and then
she felt like a gauche fool for not recognizing it
immediately.
______________

Since “big and ugly” wasn't holding her

anymore, Rosalie carefully leaned further backwards
on her hip. She nodded briefly to Frankie and with
the grace of a gazelle, she pushed off with her feet
and slid backwards into the water, immediately
304
flipping to her tummy and swimming into the cool
depths. Her leg stung like fire as soon as it hit the
water, but she swam as fast as she could away from
the launch and toward the shore.
“Should I get her?” growled the burley man who
had let Rosalie slip away.
“Forget her, we don't have time to go back,”
snarled Pedro staring accusingly at Frankie. “You
put her up to that didn't you?”
“So what if I did?” mocked Frankie. Inwardly she
breathed a sigh of relief. At least the other girl was
out of this. She prayed that she would find safety
on the island. She had a better chance there than
she did if Pedro sailed away with her.
Pedro grabbed her hair and cruelly jerked her
head back. “I should just take you myself,” he
muttered, his bold eyes filled with lust. “After all,
the Sheik would never know. It's not like you're a
maid anymore...even if you were before LaSalle got
in your pants.” He bent his head and kissed her
along the jaw line leading up to her delicate ear
where his tongue outlined the shell-like fragility,
causing her to shrink away.
“Leave me alone,” she hissed, her eyes
darkening as she shot daggers at him. His hand in
her hair was tight and hurting her, but she refused
to acknowledge her pain to him.
“I need to clean you up, first,” he purred,
gloating at her discomfort. “You've got blood on
your face and dust and dirt all over you.” His left
hand reached out and trailed a lazy finger from her
throat down to the cleft between her breasts, then
slid beneath the fabric to tease and taunt a rosy
peak.
Frankie slapped his hand away. Furiously, she
spat out, “Leave me alone, you are disgusting to
me!”
305
 Angrily, he jerked her head back, putting his
face close to hers. “You will change your tune when
I'm between your thighs, Chiquita, you will be
begging me to take you!”
“Never!” ground out Frankie.
He released her then and laughed. Looking at
the big man across from him he said, “once we are
away from the islands, make sure hot water and a
tub is brought to my cabin. Frankie and I will bathe
together.” His mouth curved in a mocking smile as
she turned her head away.
Frankie trembled, and her thoughts were
despairing. Oh, Jacques, if you are coming, please
hurry.
______________

Rosalie reached the shore, finally, limping and

panting as she made her way to the tall grasses
before giving in to exhaustion, and she lay there
resting and trying to regain her strength. Thank
God, they hadn’t come after her!
She moaned as the wood fragment in her leg
throbbed and burned. She felt the area with her
fingertips, realizing it was still seeping blood and
swelling. She had to keep moving though; she
couldn’t give in to the pain.
She tried to think past the haze of pain. She
was at the back of the island, somewhere between
the West Side and the front entrance. The West
Side was the cliff side. She could hide there among
the rocks and make her way to the front until she
recognized someone she knew who would take her
to Jacques and Morg…if she could make it that far.
She had to, for the Captain’s sake. She had saved
Rosalie’s life more than once, now, and she owed it
to Frankie to make sure Jacques knew where she
was.
306
307
 Taking a deep breath, she got to her feet,
hissing as she stepped down on her right leg. The
pain drove her back to the ground. So be it, she
thought. If my knees are the only way I can go,
then I shall crawl the whole way!
With determination, she set forward on her
hands and knees, pausing only to listen now and
then.
Jacques was in the lead when the ceiling in
front of them began to shake and rocks dislodged,
coming down in a rain of choking dust and debris.
“The whole ceiling is coming down,” he shouted. No
sooner had he spoken than a cave-in happened
right in front of their eyes.
“Back up, Jacques,” yelled Morg, grabbing him
by the shoulders and pulling him backwards.
Jacques stumbled backwards, and then turned
to scramble back with Morg. “We can’t go any
further this way,” he panted. “Now what do we
do?”
“The way I see it,” Morg answered, “the only
thing we can do is go back the way we came and
head to the front. We can’t get to that front cavern
from this direction, and the damned mountain is
coming down. It will at least force them out the
front, so they have to surrender.”
“Unless they have taken the girls out the back
way,” insisted Jacques. “I say we head away from
the shelling. If there is a back door, it will the
furthest away from the cannons.”
“Let’s go then, before we get trapped in here,”
Morg growled, not liking the dark closeness of the
tunnels. Only the thought of the hapless women
drove him on. No one took anything from Morg
Macalister that he didn’t want to give up! Besides,
he liked Rosalie. The thought of her being ravaged
and brutalized angered him.
308
 Once that was decided, it wasn’t too hard to
make their way back, heading away from the
shaking and rumbling. As the cannons grew more
distant, the earth shook less and soon the dust and
pebbles had stopped altogether
______________

Another hour, and Jacques and Morg smelled it

at the same time…salt water! They were soon
rewarded with the flickering from a torch, and they
cautiously approached, peering into the small
cavern that opened up, checking for inhabitants.
Seeing no one, they headed towards the tunnel on
the opposite end of the small cavern, the only other
one besides the one they had just came from.
It was only minutes before they reached the
exit, and they listened for the sound of any voices.
Hearing none, they looked outside.
“Look, a campfire,” hissed Morg, his eyes spying
the dying embers.
“No guards?” muttered Jacques, “that is odd.
Why would they leave this rear exit unguarded?”
Morg knelt and checked the fire. “It’s still got
coals in it. They just left it without putting it out,
probably in a hurry. It’s starting to get dawn, and
the shelling is well over the mountain. I would say
the rear guard decided to cut their losses and
desert, like the rats they are. They probably had a
frigate on the beach down there and left.”
“Come on,” Jacques replied. “Let’s go check it
out, then work our way back along the West beach
to our frigate.”
It was only a scant few minutes later when they
broke the jungle cover and stepped onto the beach.
There were plenty of footprints, but no ship.
Whoever had been here, had left.

309
 “Look at this,” growled Morg. He held up a piece
of cloth.
A stab of fear raced through Jacques. It was a
piece of Frankie’s dress…with blood all over it. “Mon
Dieu,” he whispered, “have they harmed her then?”
His fingers trembled and he stared at the empty
water. “Where have they taken her?”
“Look!” Morg was running down the beach a
few yards. “There! It looks as if someone came out
of the water, small footprints! Maybe one of the
girls got away from them!”
Jacques knelt and examined the prints.
“Whoever it is, there is blood, not too old either.
She is wounded.” His heart beat fast, and he stood
up and started running, following the prints to
where they ended in the long grass.
Again, the men knelt down and examined the
flattened reeds. “There is blood here, too,” Morg
spoke harshly. They followed the trail until it came
back to the beach; perplexed at the wide swath it
cut…much wider than a pair of feet would leave.
“Damn,” swore Morg softly. “Whoever it is, she
is on her hands and knees, just look at that!”
Jacques began running, Morg right behind him.
Morg ran into him when he stopped suddenly. “Mon
Dieu, it is Rosalie!” He pointed to where Rosalie
was lying on her stomach in the sand.
Quickly, Morg ran to her side and gently turned
her over. She moaned and opened her eyes,
smiling in relief when she saw Morg. “The
Captain…Pedro has her…El Diablo…they sailed
away.” Then her eyes closed, she was unable to
stay conscious any longer.
Frankie had stared at the beach until they
reached Pedro's ship, her eyes searching in vain for
some sign of Jacques or Morg.

310
311
 Pedro grabbed her by the waist and forced her
up the ladder, climbing right behind her to keep her
from taking to the water. As she neared the top, the
big man who had carried Rosalie grabbed her arms
and pulled her on over the railing.
She wasn’t able to resist looking longingly at the
beach as Pedro took her arm and pulled her along
with him to his cabin.
“Don't bother watching for your lover. He isn't
coming,” Pedro sneered. “I'm quite sure he went
into the tunnels, but they are coming down, and
Chandler will be leaving soon, with or without the
Nemesis.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Frankie mocked. “You aren't
staying around to see how the fight ends are you?”
“Why should I? I have what I want, my ship, my
treasure, and my insurance for Sheik Rasheed.
What do I care for Chandler? They can all kill each
other off, and it wouldn't matter to me.”
“You're a coward,” accused Frankie hotly, “and a
traitor!”
“Shut up!” he snapped fiercely. “This isn't the
French court, and I can let these men use you and
discard you if I chose to do so. You are lucky I'm
only going to have you myself. You should be
thanking me!”
Frankie raised her hand to slap him, but he
twisted her arm behind her back and shoved her
into the cabin. Following her in, he began to remove
his clothing. “Maybe I won't wait for the bath, chica.
It’s obvious you haven't had a real man yet. Time to
remedy that.”

312
 Chapter Seventeen

“Pierre, look at this!” said Kat excitedly, peering

through the spyglass. “That Spanish ship is getting
ready to pull out of the fight. It looks like it’s
headed around to the back of the island!”
“Keep an eye on it, Kat,” instructed Pierre.
“Bring the Aphrodite around, but keep her well
back,” he told the helmsman. Taking the glass from
Kat, he looked through it, following El Diablo as she
moved.
“Give it back to me, please,” said Kat holding
her hand out. It was only a few minutes later that
the frigate dropped anchor, and a launch headed for
the island. “It's Pedro,” exclaimed Kat. “But what's
he doing?”
“Maybe there is a double cross going on,” said
Pierre thoughtfully. “Lets keep watch. All that's
happening on the front side is a fight, and the island
looks to be getting the worst of it all.”
It was nearing dawn when Gaston excitedly
called to Kat and Pierre. “The launch is coming
back, and it looks like there are more in it than left,
but it’s too far away to tell!”
“Let me see,” demanded Kat, taking the glass
from him. Once the launch got closer to the ship,
she was able to make out the figures climbing the
ladder on the side of the ship. “That’s Frankie!” she
gasped. “What's she doing with Pedro? And where
is Rosalie?”
“I don't know,” said Pierre grimly, “but we need
some answers. “Bring her hard to starboard! Head
for that frigate!” he barked.
“She's leaving,” yelled Kat as the sails came out,
and the launch was pulled in. The frigate was
quickly setting sail for the open sea. “We'll never
catch her, Pierre,” cried Kat. “What is going on?”
313
 “I don't know,” snapped Pierre again. But, he
was worried. The Aphrodite did not have the speed
of the frigate, and she would soon outdistance
them. “Where the hell are LaSalle and Macalister?”
“Whatever else is going on, that's Frankie on
that ship, and we're going after her!” said Kat.
“Even if we can't catch her, maybe we can at least
keep her in sight and find out where they dock
next.” She looked around for Pierre, but Pierre was
barking orders to the crew.
“You six men get below and start unloading
cannons,” he said. “Unload two from each side.
Let's see if we can lighten this ship up enough to
gain a little on the frigate. We'll dump them all if we
have to, but we are not letting her out of our sight!”
He gestured to two other sailors. “You two, cut
a launch and head for the Nemesis, tell them we're
headed due east. And that means a stop at Tortuga
regardless of where else they might be headed. Tell
LaSalle to get out here, that's his old stomping
grounds.”
“Tortuga,” gasped Kat. “That's where most of
the slave auctions are held.”
Pierre nodded worriedly. “Yes...it is
______________

Frankie tried to think quickly. She was really

getting tired. So much had happened in the last few
days with very little rest for her, and she hadn’t
eaten much last night.
She knew she couldn't kill Pedro; he was the
only thing that stood between her and the rest of
the crew. She had no loyal followers here, only
brutish men who would jump at the chance to use
and discard her, leaving her to die if she survived at
all. She needed to buy some time. Maybe there was

314
a shred of decency left in Pedro...she would find
out.
“Pedro...please,” she began softly, holding her
hands out entreatingly. She walked towards him
and put her hands on his arms, stilling his
undressing movements. “Please, I am so very tired
and dirty. If we are to...make love,” she said
haltingly, “Can we not make it pleasant? Allow me
to bathe, to rest...to be properly prepared for such
a handsome man as you.”
“Are you saying you will come to me willingly?”
growled Pedro, his eyes lighting up at the thought.
He scanned her face, looking for signs of duplicity.
Frankie flushed. “I...I will not fight you...that is
the best I can offer,” she said hoarsely. She walked
to the porthole and looked out, folding her arms
across her bare midriff.
Pedro walked up behind her and put his arms
around her, drawing her back into his chest. “Does
it have to be like this?” he murmured into her hair.
“Come away with me, Frankie, just the two of us,
its not too late to start over.”
Frankie felt bile rise up in her throat. “What
about Sheik Rasheed?”
“I will deal with him when the time comes. I just
won't tell him about you. After all, he needs me,” he
bragged to her.
“What’s to stop him from killing you and taking
me anyway,” she asked, afraid to look at him for
fear he would see the revulsion on her face.
“I've recovered most of his treasure,” replied
Pedro. “We stole it while the party was going on. He
will be happy that he did not lose it all. Of course,
you would have guaranteed his good will to me, but
I would rather have you myself.”
When she didn't answer, he turned her around
and dipped his finger beneath her chin. “LaSalle is
315
dead, Frankie. I know he was in the tunnels, him
and Macalister. The cannons brought the tunnels
down. If it did not kill them, then they are
hopelessly trapped and will soon be dead.”
Frankie felt a fierce stab of pain in her heart,
and she cried out. “No! That is not true! I don't
believe you!”
“Poor Frankie,” he said gently, his thumb
brushing across the cut on her cheek. “I saw him,
myself. He and Macalister passed within six feet of
me when I was in the tunnels looking for you. I
stayed still up against the wall, and they did not
hear or see me. They were headed for the front,
and the mountain was already coming down from
the cannons.”
He looked at her sympathetically. “I will give
them credit, they tried to rescue you and Rosalie,
but they didn't have a chance. How were they to
know you had found your way out?"
“Nooo,” moaned Frankie, her face going deathly
pale. “It can't be true!”
“Let me help you forget about him, Frankie,”
said Pedro pulling her against his broad chest. “He
was just a filthy pirate, anyway, not worthy of you!
I will erase his touch and imprint my own, and you
will belong to me!”
Frankie stood with her head bowed, not
resisting, as Pedro pulled her into his arms. Mute
tears began to trickle down her cheeks, and he led
her to the bed. “Lay down and rest, mi amore,” he
said softly. “In a little while, I will send a hot bath
for you, and I will wash you, myself, and bring you
something to eat, and you will feel better.”
Frankie allowed him to undress her and put her
naked into the bunk, pulling the covers up to her
shoulders. When the door closed, she turned to the

316
wall, great sobs wracking her body as she cried and
then fell into an exhausted sleep.
______________

“We have company, Senor,” growled Luis, as

Pedro stepped from the cabin. He handed Pedro the
spyglass. “Emilio spotted her from up top the crow's
nest.”
Pedro took the spyglass and walked to the
railing. Holding it up, he scanned the horizon until
the ship came into view. “Is it gaining on us?” he
asked, trying to make out the flag.
“No Captain, but she ees not slipping behind,
either.”
“It’s too large to be the Nemesis,” muttered
Pedro. “Besides, LaSalle is dead. It must be the
Aphrodite. That Pierre is a crafty old fox; he has
found a way to lighten the load. He must have been
watching and seen us leave the fight.”
“Then he knows we have the woman?”
questioned Luis, trying to follow Pedro's thinking.
“I'm quite sure he knows,” answered Pedro
dryly, “or he would not bother following us.”
“What are we going to do, senor?”
“Keep an eye on her for now. If she begins to
gain on us, it means they are dropping the canons.
Without those, she will be a fat sitting duck in the
water, and we can sink her at will. She cannot
outmaneuver us, she is too large.” He handed Luis
the spyglass. “Let me know the minute it changes.
I'm going to get some rest.”
“Si, senor.”
Frankie felt his mouth on her breast, suckling
the rosy peak, bringing it to throbbing life. With his
thumb and finger, he lovingly rolled the other soft
bud into a hard ache, the sensations flashing hot
jolts straight to her sex, making her wet and
317
yearning. She moaned softly, clenching the sheets
between her fingers, her back arching as his fingers
trailed down her stomach and into that hot wet
cleft, finding the straining center of her.
“Oh, Jacques,” she cried out as her hips lifted
from the bed, seeking his huge male shaft in
passionate invitation to fill her, to make her shudder
with wild sensation, to fulfill her completely.
“No!” exploded an angry voice. “NOT
Jacques...PEDRO!” Frankie’s eyes sprang open, still
dazed and filled with languorous desire to meet the
fiercely glinting brown eyes of Pedro.
The desire left her body as she realized she had
been dreaming, and it was not Jacques at all. Great
disappointment filled her, and she stared defiantly
back, refusing to answer him.
Pedro stared at her, watching her eyes change
and become guarded, all desire leaving her face,
and he hissed in frustration. “I WILL make you
forget that filthy pirate if it’s the last thing I do! You
will beg for ME to fill you, to satisfy your need, and
you will come when I say so and ONLY when I say
so, chica!”
So this is it, thought Frankie. I have to endure
his touch, and I cannot fight him. She turned her
face to the wall and willed herself to lie still. What
did it matter anyway? Jacques was gone. It was
then that she realized she must surely have fallen in
love with him. How had this happened to her? A
single tear slipped from beneath her closed eyelid.
“Oh, no you don't,” snarled Pedro. “You are not
going to get away with that, mi amore. You WILL
respond to me, you will see. But, for now, your bath
is ready.”
Frankie watched him cautiously as she got up
and walked to the tub of steaming water and
stepped into it. She was relieved at the reprieve,
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however slight, and she let out a sigh of
contentment as she sat down and let the hot water
rush over her skin, enjoying the feel of its stinging
warmth.
Pedro watched her greedily, his feelings mixed.
He wanted her badly; he burned with lust for her. It
galled him that LaSalle had already had her, and he
was determined to make her writhe beneath him,
making her beg for it.
But, he would not be unkind to her if she would
give him a chance. He was not an animal, after all,
regardless of her branding him a coward. He didn't
call it cowardice; he called it taking advantage of a
good opportunity, like any smart man would do.
He got up and quickly stripped himself of his
clothes, his manhood already erect. He picked up
the bar of soap and the cloth and walked over to
kneel beside the tub. He soaped up the cloth and
began to wash the cut on her cheek.
"It's not a deep cut, mi amore," he crooned
softly. "I have some ointments that will insure there
is no scarring to mark your beautiful face. He gently
rinsed the soap off and washed the rest of her face,
easing away the dirt and dust; tenderly dabbing
clean the cut on her lip.
Then he began to pour water over her long hair,
lathering it up with the scented lavender soap and
then rinsing it. Once that was accomplished, he
soaped up the soft cloth once again and began to
wash the rest of her body starting with her neck. He
was going to enjoy this.
Frankie sat quietly, allowing him to do as he
wished. A small part of her mind had closed him off,
thinking of Kat and Pierre, her mother, and most of
all...Jacques. When his finger slipped inside her sex,
she gasped at the intrusion and pushed his hand
away. “Don't!” she snapped.
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 Pedro returned his hand, his fingers once more
slipping into that secret cleft, searching for the soft
bud inside, and she tried to push him away again.
“Do not resist me, chica,” he said warningly. “I will
have you, but I would prefer your cooperation. And
you did promise me that.”
“What good are promises in this pirate’s life,”
mocked Frankie, a flash of the old fire back in her
eyes. “You, who are a coward and a liar, should
understand that perfectly well.”
“Madre de Dios,” swore Pedro standing up. He
lifted her wet body out of the tub and strode to the
bed. “I will teach you to lie to me,” he snarled as he
followed her down, pinning her to the bunk while he
positioned himself between her thighs.
Frankie couldn't help it, she screamed and
began to fight him, trying to buck him off her as she
felt his hard shaft trying to penetrate her unwilling
body. “You want it the hard way, I'll take it the hard
way,” growled Pedro, grabbing both her wrists in
one hand and
pinning them above her head. His mouth
descended on her nipple, and he suckled hard,
deliberately hurting her.
______________

Suddenly, a pounding sounded on the door, and

the urgent voice of Luis penetrated the wood.
“Captain, come quick! The Aphrodite...she is gaining
on us!”
“Mi Dios,” he swore furiously, getting up. “This is
not over, chica, I will be back to finish this!”
Grabbing his clothes he slid into them, running for
the door as he strapped on his sword.
Frankie lay there, panting and stunned…the
Aphrodite? Kat and Pierre, she thought joyfully as
her heart surged with hope.
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 She got up and looked around for something to
dress with. It was time Frankie stopped moping she
decided, her usual fire returning as she searched
the cabin. This time, when Pedro came back, he
would find her claws and teeth had resurfaced!
The hell with getting dressed, she finally
decided! It was time to get out of there, and clothes
would only slow her down, anyway. Frankie strode
to the door Pedro had just exited. Sliding open the
little window, she spoke to the guard. “You can take
this tub
out of here now, we are finished with it.”
She stood aside as the man opened the door
and cautiously entered gaping at Frankie standing
there stark naked with a smile on her face. With his
eyes glued to her breasts, he had no idea what hit
him as he slid into unconsciousness. Frankie
dropped the water pitcher she had hidden behind
her back and made for the open door.
In a flash, she was at the railing, then diving in
a clean, arcing free fall that took her headfirst into
the ocean. She cut back to the surface and veered
right, heading for the stern of the ship. It passed
her quickly, and she began slicing through the
water with
clean even strokes, heading for the ship she
could see in the distance. The Aphrodite!
Frankie loved the sea and was a strong
swimmer. She risked a glance over her shoulder to
see if they had spotted her and was dismayed to
see the ship heading into a hard right to starboard,
meaning they knew she was gone. Determinedly,
she fixed her eyes on the ship in the distance and
swam for all she was worth. It would take them a
few minutes to get on course behind her, and with
the Aphrodite coming straight at her, maybe she
had a chance...maybe. She swam furiously.
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323
 Suddenly, she felt a backwash of waves coming
over her, and her heart sank, thinking they were
upon her already. She glanced behind her and was
shocked to see the black ship cutting between her
and El Diablo, so close its wash was sending her
bobbing on its waves. The Nemesis! Where had she
come from?
She saw a man pulling off his boots and peeling
off his shirt at the railing high above her, but she
couldn't tell who it was. Then, he was diving, and
she saw his long ponytail stream out behind him as
he came down. It looked like...Jacques! But how
could that be? Jacques was dead! Wasn't he? She
turned and began swimming again for the
Aphrodite. Whoever it was, she didn't want to be
captured again, especially if it wasn't Jacques!
She heard the cannon fire and knew the
Nemesis was engaging the Spanish frigate. Still, she
swam for the Aphrodite, hoping Chandler would at
least blow Pedro to hell and back for deserting him.
It had to be Chandler; there was no other
explanation. With Jacques dead, he had gotten his
wish. Tears stung her eyes, but she swam
furiously.
“FRANKIE!”
She heard her name being called, and she risked
turning around again...it sounded so much like
Jacques, but that could be wishful thinking, and this
could be a trap. Mon Dieu! Whoever it was, they
could swim fast...they had gained yards on her,
already!
She turned and began swimming away again
from that black sleek head, putting forth as much
effort as she could.
“FRANKIE FONTAINE...IF YOU DON'T STOP,
WHEN I CATCH YOU I'M GOING TO SPANK YOUR
ASS HARD.”
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325
 Frankie stopped then and turned around in
shock. It WAS Jacques! No one could mistake that
threat and that voice. “JACQUES!” she screamed in
delight and began swimming back towards him, her
heart beating a happy tattoo.
They met, and Jacque's brows were drawn
together in a thunderous frown. “What the hell do
you think you are doing…swimming away from me
like that? You've already got one spanking coming;
you just added another one!” He grabbed her and
held onto her, treading water with her.
Well, this wasn't the sweet reunion Frankie had
hoped for, and she got angry herself. “I was told
you were dead, you idiot! Why do you think I was
swimming away? I didn't have any desire to get
captured by another randy pirate, the one I just left
was bad enough!” If she could have stomped her
foot, she would have, but treading water made it a
bit difficult.
Jacques was quickly feeling her out beneath the
water, realizing she was totally naked. “Where the
devil are your clothes? What have you been doing?
Screwing that bastard Pedro after all?” he hissed
through gritted teeth.
“Well, what do you do with the women you
capture," taunted Frankie, thoroughly angry now at
his ridiculous attitude. “Serve them chicken on rice
and ask their permission? GO TO HELL!”
She turned and began swimming for the
Aphrodite again, too furious and hurt to talk,
anymore. She wouldn't tell him anything! To think
she had wasted perfectly good tears on this boorish
brute!
Jacques stared after her, feeling frustrated and
angry! He had come straight after the Aphrodite,
heading due West towards Tortuga as fast as he
could come after almost getting killed in those
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blasted tunnels! He'd heard from three different
sources that this was where they were surely
headed, so he had put to sea without even a break
to come after this headstrong woman and this was
the thanks he got?
When Frenchy had spotted Frankie leaping from
the Diablo through the spyglass, they had come up
on the side to cut Pedro off and Jacques had come
after her, wanting to make sure she was safe
himself. The fact that she was indeed totally naked
had concerned him. What if Pedro had hurt her? It
wouldn't be uncommon, he had had her long
enough. Worse yet, what if she had enjoyed it?
Growling with fatigue and anger, he began
swimming after her again. He wanted answers, and
he wanted them...NOW
______________

What had she been doing to get herself caught

like that in the first place? Didn’t she know he had
many enemies who would jump at the chance to get
even with him, using whatever means they could?
Why had she gone walking in the jungle with just
Rosalie and Kat after dark with hundreds of drunken
pirates around?
These questions had needled at him, and he had
worried about it all the time he was chasing after
her. The woman belonged to him; didn't she realize
that? And Jacques LaSalle shared with no one! If
Pedro had touched her in any way he was a dead
man!
Jacque was exhausted, furious and frustrated,
and it showed as he sped after her, reaching her
just as she was pulling herself onto a rope ladder
that Pierre had thrown over the side of the
Aphrodite. He grabbed for the rope and his broad

327
shoulder coming up beneath her bottom boosting
her up the ladder.
“Get AWAY from me,” yelled Frankie, trying to
scramble on up the ladder as he climbed up beneath
her. She slapped at the top of his head.
“I'm not going anywhere until I have some
answers,” he snarled, following her up.
“I'm not telling you anything!” Frankie was just
as furious as he was, and she kicked out, her knee
catching him in the chin and making him fall back
into the water. She started scrambling for the top
as he grabbed the ropes again, taking the steps two
and three at a time as his long legs made the reach,
overtaking her again as Pierre grabbed her arms to
pull her over the side.
“Come back here,” he demanded grabbing her
arm as he swung his leg over the side of the
Aphrodite and slid onto the deck. Frankie struggled
and kicked against him.
“What's going on here,” roared Pierre, who had
seen the whole thing from the spyglass as the two
met in the water.
He had been very relieved to see the Nemesis
spring up out of nowhere, for he knew they didn't
have enough cannons left to successfully engage
the Diablo. LaSalle must have sailed like the hounds
of hell were on his heels to get here this fast!
“Let go of me,” shrieked Frankie, her fist flying
at Jacques’s jaw. “You're an idiot, a brute, a
bastard...”
That did it. No one questioned Jacques LaSalle's
upbringing. He might be a lot of things, but a
bastard wasn't one of them! He propped his knee up
on the bottom rail and yanked her face down across
it, lifting her toes off the decking. His left arm and
hand held onto her squirming wet body while his
right arm went high in the air. When his right arm
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329
descended and his hard palm connected in a
blistering spank, she screamed and kicked out, her
arms flailing helplessly.
“AAIIEE...DAMM YOU.... LET GOOOOO OF ME!”
But, Jacques didn't intend to let go of her just
yet. He had had enough, and now she was going to
get her ass paddled.... hard! He didn't care who was
watching!
The crew got quite a show as Captain Frankie
struggled and screamed helplessly over Jacque's
knee, her butt turning redder and redder as his
palm landed spank after burning spank on her
upturned bare bottom. When she finally slumped in
defeat, he stopped spanking her, stood her up, then
hefted her over his shoulder and headed for her
cabin, his long strides eating up the deck.
Kat started after them, but Pierre took her by
the arm. “No, let them work it out,” he said softly.
Kat started to speak, but Pierre quelled her with
a look. As she strode away, she heard one of the
men say. “I don't know which one to feel more
sorry for, the Captain or LaSalle.” He snickered as
his friend standing near him agreed.

330
 Chapter Eighteen

Frankie reached back desperately to try to rub

her throbbing buttocks, but Jacques pushed her
hand away. She was squirming and bucking from
the ache, her face was bright red with
embarrassment, and she was trying valiantly not to
burst into tears. She would not give him the
satisfaction!
"You deserve to feel the burn," he growled
unsympathetically, holding her thighs firmly as she
gyrated her hips in and out in an effort to relieve
the awful stinging. If she had been standing on the
floor, no doubt she would be dancing from one foot
to the other and clutching her backside!
Jacques pushed open her cabin door, stepped
inside and set her on the floor, holding her arms in
both hands in case she tried to attack him again.
"Are you going to behave, now?" he asked
cautiously, finally lifting one hand to brush his
thumb across the cut on her cheek, then bent to
kiss the bruised area gently.
It was the tenderness that was her undoing.
Head bent, she began to sob softly, tears running
down her cheeks in swift profusion. The last two
days had been horrendous, and the culmination of
those days in a humiliating, painful spanking in
front of her crew had been bad enough, but it was
Jacques's gentle kiss that finally opened the
floodgates where his harsh spanking had failed.
"Come here," he said gruffly, pulling her into his
arms. "Sshhhh…" he said, his hand caressing the
scarlet cheeks, easing some of the sting and burn.
"What happened to your face, ma cherie?" If Pedro
had done this, he was a dead man.
"T…the man who did it is dead," she sobbed.
She snuggled into his shoulder, her arms creeping
331
around his neck, his warm bare skin feeling
delicious against her own cool body.
"Did Pedro hurt you?" he asked softly, tipping
her chin up to look into her tear washed eyes. He
wanted to see the truth in them when she
answered.
Frankie blushed and replied. "Were it not for the
Aphrodite, he would have succeeded. Does that
answer your question?"
"Mon Dieu, he is a dead man," he said fiercely.
That explained why she wasn't wearing any clothes.
"You can tell me the rest later."
Frankie wondered how many times you could kill
a man. Many times over if Jacques had his way, it
seemed. She felt the insane desire to laugh for
some reason, and she realized how very tense she
had been and still was. Right now, she wanted
nothing more than to curl up in Jacques's arms and
make love, but she knew it wasn't possible, not yet.
"I need to get dressed," she whispered, trying to
pull away from him. She could tell he was feeling
the same way she was, considering something was
becoming awfully hard inside his pants as she
pressed up against him. Shyly, she reached down
and cupped the bulge, lightly running her thumb
across it.
"I want you," he answered hoarsely, pulling her
up tight against him, kissing her bare shoulder.
She shivered as she felt desire tug at her
senses, drugging her, making her juices flow, and
she whispered, "we can't, we have to go."
He reached down and between her legs, feeling
the hot wetness in her cleft and knew she was
ready for him. Quickly, he pulled his shaft free of
his pants. "Put your arms around my neck," he
instructed softly.

332
 Placing his hands beneath her thighs, he lifted
her, her legs obligingly spreading and coming
around his hips, and then slowly, he began to lower
her onto his throbbing organ, her tightness almost
driving him to the brink of orgasm, immediately.
Frankie gasped in delight as he slowly filled her,
her body stretching to accommodate his hardness
once again, and she instinctively began to arch her
back and buck her hips forward to receive all of
him, then move back out.
Jacques allowed her to ride him while he held
her, knowing they were both in need of release, and
it would not be long before the tension in her body
would explode, allowing him to take that same
opportunity. When he felt her body began to
tremble, and the keening cry come from her lips, he
knew she was almost there, and he thrust up hard
into her, sending her over the edge as her body
shook and contracted with the force of her release.
A few final thrusts, and he was there with her,
exploding into her with a groan. At last, he let her
slide down his body, and her feet touch the floor,
holding her close, while their breathing slowed and
returned to normal.
"You are so beautiful, so responsive," he
murmured. "I wonder if I'll ever get enough of
you?"
You mean you wonder if you will ever get bored
with me, she thought, but she did not put it into
words.
Swiftly, she dressed, Jacques watching her,
wondering what was going through that raven-
haired head of hers now. She was so unpredictable,
fiery and tempestuous one minute and sobbing and
cuddling the next. Every inch the fierce captain of
her ship, yet soft and yielding when he entered her,
her eyes round saucers of surprise and wonder. She
333
was like no other woman he had ever met, and she
intrigued him.
"Jacques, the Nemesis has grappled the frigate.
We are ready to pull alongside." Pierre's voice came
through the door after the tentative knock.
"We're coming, Pierre," he answered, never
taking his eyes off Frankie. He could see her
transforming before his eyes, and it fascinated him.
Would she ever be totally his?
Frankie dressed quickly, aware that Jacques was
watching her with questions in his eyes. She felt
inadequate at that moment and wondered if she
really pleased him, or if she was just his new toy for
the moment.
Her own mother had been taken before they had
had the chance to talk of these things. She only
knew that women were supposed to please men,
yet she knew little of what went on.
She found Jacques's body fascinating and
wondered how she compared to lovers of the past.
She knew she did not like the idea of him taking
someone else as a lover, just as he did not like the
thought of her being with Pedro.
"Time to go," she said, shaking off the thoughts.
She followed him out of the cabin.
"Here is Chandler's accomplice," yelled Frenchy,
spying Jacques from the Diablo. The Nemesis was
grappled up to the other side, and Frenchy and
Pierre had the Diablo sandwiched between them. He
put his sword point into Pedro's back and poked.
Jacques jumped the rails and faced Pedro,
Frankie right behind him. "See that the treasure is
reloaded to the Nemesis," he instructed Frenchy,
taking his sword. "Time to die," he said cheerfully to
Pedro, and he pulled his arm back.

334
 "Wait," said Frankie, stepping boldly forward.
"You can't just kill him in cold blood, Jacques. You
two aren't even fighting."
"Do not interfere, Frankie," replied Jacque
coldly, his dark eyes glinting with warning. He
would brook no interference in this matter. "He
kidnapped you and tried to hurt you: he will die.
Out here we wait for no court, justice is served
quickly."
"Rape?" Pedro laughed cruelly. "Is that what you
call it, Frankie? Seems to me that you offered
yourself to me, isn't that right?" He turned to
Jacques. "I hope she was as good for you as she
was for me, I thoroughly enjoyed her," he sneered.
With a roar, Jacque put his sword through
Pedro's stomach and sliced up. Pedro fell to the
deck, his entrails spilling out as Frankie watched
silently, never acknowledging his words. It would
not look good to show shock or fear.
She stared at Jacques for a moment, then
turned on her heel and left the Diablo, Jacques's
furious face standing out in her memory more than
the death of Pedro.
Jacques started after her, but Frenchy stepped
in front of him. "Not now, Jacques, we have work to
do, my friend." Jacques hesitated, then nodded
curtly to Frenchy and headed for the Nemesis.
Frankie returned to the Aphrodite, feeling
stunned by what Pedro had said. Would Jacques
believe him? How could she prove it hadn't
happened that way? Not like that, anyway.
"Lets get out of here, Pierre," she said painfully.
"Head for Pirates Hideaway. It won't be much longer
before Mother will be here, and maybe we can take
her and go home."
Kat followed her into the cabin and threw her
arms around her sister. "I'm so glad you are back,
335
Frankie, we were afraid we wouldn't be able to
catch you before reaching Tortuga."
"I'm glad you followed us, Kat," whispered
Frankie, her voice raspy with unshed tears. "I had
almost given up until I heard you were out there.
You inspired me to keep fighting."
The two girls clung to each other, each taking
comfort from the other.
Jacques watched Frankie through his spyglass
now and then, trying to curb his anger and disgust.
Had she really slept with Pedro? Had she lied to
him? What if she had slept with Pedro? He argued
with himself. It wasn't like he owned her or
anything. "Okay, fine," he muttered to himself, "but
why did she have to lie to me? And, I DO own her,
she belongs to me."
"Talking to yourself?" came Frenchy's amused
voice from behind his right ear.
"What is it with this woman, Frenchy," he asked
his old friend, feeling thoroughly aggravated with
himself. "Why do I burn for her?"
"Well," began Frenchy. "They say every man has
one woman he never forgets. And he either ends up
marrying her, or fantasizing about her for the rest
of his life. I guess they call it one true love my
friend." He clapped Jacques on the shoulder.
"I'm not in love with this stubborn wench!"
declared Jacque. "Half the time I feel like strangling
her where she stands! And she is not well versed in
the ways of pleasuring a man," he added grumpily.
"I'm sure you'll have no trouble teaching her,"
returned Frenchy, hiding a sly smile.
"If I can keep her from taking my head off first,"
muttered Jacques looking through the spyglass
again. "She is a fighter, that one; she has earned
her reputation as the she devil that men call her.

336
But I will have her begging me to take her...." he
trailed off as Frenchy smiled a Cheshire cat smile.
"She is just like her mother," Frenchy replied,
thinking of Lady Frontenac. "You will not tame her
with just the flat of your hand, my friend, you will
have to earn her heart, or she will never belong to
you."
"She already belongs to me! She just doesn't
know it.... yet!" Jacques closed the spyglass and
strode away, impatience in every step.
Frenchy watched him go and grinned
delightedly. Frankie was giving him fits...and he
loved it. It was about time he met a woman who
was just as headstrong and stubborn as Jacques
LaSalle himself. Yes, they would make a good pair,
provided one didn't kill the other before they came
to that realization.
"How is she?" Morg asked Alyssa as she came
from Rosalie's room.
"She is resting as comfortably as I can make
her," responded Alyssa, the pan of bloody water in
her hands. "The doctor removed the wood, and it
has bled freely. I applied a hot poultice with
medicinal herbs to keep infection down. With care
and cleanliness, she should recover fine." Alyssa
smiled up at him. "She is sleeping now, and you
should get some rest, too."
"Aye, I will soon," he answered looking beyond
the door into Rosalie's room. He had taken a hot
bath, but he hadn't been able to rest, yet. And he
didn't think he would until Kat returned.
"Would you like some herb tea?" Alyssa asked
solicitously. She knew what was bothering her
friend. It wasn't just Rosalie, but the little red
headed girl had gotten under his skin.
"No thank ye, Alyssa," he replied wearily. When
he saw Rosalie stirring, he went in and sat down by
337
the bed. He felt deep concern for her even though
he was angry with her and Kat both. Although Kat
and Frankie had free reign of the island, he had
thought they would have enough sense not to take
off alone with the rum that was flowing among the
randy pirates and crews of the ships in the harbor.
It had been asking for trouble.
Thank God, Pierre had called Kat back. Not just
for selfish reasons, but Morg knew pirates. They
would have taken Rosalie along for the ride and
given her to the men to be used like a whore and
disposed of. Morg was no saint, but he didn't
believe in letting men tear a woman apart like a
bunch of dogs…and some would! Pirating seemed
to attract not only the bitter and vengeful, but the
scum of the earth as well. Unfortunately, all were
painted with the same sour brush of hatred when
the word pirate was mentioned.
"I'm sorry, Sir."
Morg started from his reverie to find soft brown
eyes looking up at him, remorse shining in their
depths.
"We'll discuss it later, lass, ye just concentrate
on getting well."
"Yes, Sir," whispered Rosalie quietly, laying her
head back down and closing her eyes, obediently.
Then she popped back up again. "Have they come
back, yet?" She was concerned for Frankie.
"Nay, lass. Jacques has taken the Nemesis after
the Spaniard; he will bring her back."
"Yes, no one can defeat the Nemesis. Right,
Sir?" Rosalie looked beseechingly at him.
Sensing she needed reassuring, Morg spoke
firmly. "Aye, no one has ever defeated Jacques
LaSalle and the Nemesis. With the Aphrodite to
help, they are assured a quick victory. Captain
Frankie will return, never fear, lass."
338
339
 "I hope so," Rosalie replied. "She saved my life
twice. She doesn't deserve to be a harem slave,
but I think they would have to kill her first." She
grinned then.
"Harem slave?"
"Yes, Pedro intended to give Captain Frankie and
her sister to this Sheik Rasheed as harem slaves in
return for his forgiveness for losing the treasure."
"If ye feel strong enough, lass, tell me more,"
Morg urged, leaning forward to listen. He thought
they had taken Spanish treasure, not Arab
treasure. He listened while Rosalie explained all
that she had heard.
"Rest now, lass," Morg ordered finally, standing
up to go. "Alyssa will be checking on ye if ye need
anything."
"Yes, Sir."
Morg went to the stables and saddled Aramis.
He was concerned with what Rosalie had told him.
If Pedro had been in cahoots with an Arab Sheik,
then the island could be in danger. This Sheik
Rasheed might come after the treasure. It was
time for a meeting with Nigor and the other ship
captains.
As he was making his way down the hill, Nigor
was coming to meet him. "Sir, there is a fleet of
three frigates at the mouth of the harbor, awaiting
permission to come in."
"Who are they?" Morg asked.
"They say they are here at the request of
Jacques LaSalle," Nigor replied.
"Bring them in, Nigor. Jacques has been
expecting them."
"Aye, Sir." Nigor hurried back to the launch and
sent them off.
Morg sent Aramis walking towards the beach.
He waited patiently as the ships docked, his green
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341
 eyes searching the decks, waiting. Finally, he saw
her. As she stepped out of the cabin, he got his
first glimpse of Victoria Fontaine. Frankie and Kat's
mother had arrived!
He dismounted and tied Aramis off to a tree limb
and strode down the dock to the ship.
Victoria was standing at the railing, searching
for a glimpse of Frenchy. It concerned her that the
Nemesis was not in port. Was something wrong?
She walked to the railing and perused the
settlement, her eyes lighting on the strong figure
coming towards her. When he stopped in front of
her, she looked down and smiled.
"Governor Morgan Macalister at your service,"
Morg said, his white teeth gleaming in a smile. She
did indeed look like an older version of Captain
Frankie, but more genteel and refined.
"I am pleased to meet you, Monsieur," replied
Victoria, her voice soft and feminine. "My name is
Victoria, and I am looking for the Nemesis."
"She is not in dock at the moment but should
return by tomorrow," Morg bowed gallantly.
"Jacques and Frenchy have been expecting ye."
"Are you a friend of theirs?" Victoria's bright
eyes were inquisitive.
"Aye, we are well acquainted. There is a fine
hotel on the island if ye would like lodgings away
from the ship for a while, or ye are welcome at the
mansion. I'll have Alyssa prepare a room for ye."
The Captain that flanked Victoria spoke up, "I
think it would be best if you stayed on board until
the Nemesis returns, madam."
Morg's eyes gleamed. "A wise precaution, but I
assure ye, she has nothing to fear here."
"There is always something to be feared, Sir, it
pays to be prepared at all times." His strong
angular face was steady and cautious, and Morg
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could understand his reticence to let the lady out of
his sight.
"Aye, ye are a wise man," Morg replied
honestly. "I'll leave ye then, as I have work to do.
Welcome to the Pirates Hideaway. Nigor will be
along presently to collect harbor fees."
Soon the ship's officers and Captain's were
seated around Morg's table in his library.
"Gentlemen, we could have a problem." He went on
to explain the attack on the Nemesis and the
takeover attempt and why. "There is a possibility
that this Sheik may launch an attack against the
Hideaway if he gets wind of who pulled off the raid.
I want everyone to be on alert over the next few
months, starting right now. We have done our best
to eliminate witnesses, but as ye all know, pirates
who take the oath can just as easily go back to
being sailors for their country and spreading
information, or even selling it by jumping ship at a
port."
One of the frigate Captains spoke up scornfully.
"Well, I 'ope Captain LaSalle has done got rid of this
Pedro and doesn't let Captain Frankie go soft
again!"
They murmured their agreement and Morg
nodded. "I'm sure he'll take care of him this time,
gentlemen, I've nae doubt about that."
The meeting was dismissed, and Nigor stayed
behind for a few minutes. "Do you really think we'll
be attacked, Sir?" he asked evenly.
"I don't know," Morg answered bluntly. "But,
I'm a careful man, as ye know. I nae like to take
chances if it can be avoided."
"Aye," growled Nigor. He looked around as if
searching for something…or someone.

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 Morg assumed his sense was uneasiness was
being displayed and discounted it until Nigor had
gone, and he saw a movement in the shadows.
Drawing his sword, he stalked towards the
trees. "Who's there?" he growled. He relaxed when
Alyssa stepped from behind the trees, a smile on
her face. "And what are ye doing skulking about,
lass?" Morg smiled, but his eye's pinned hers in a
stare that commanded an answer.
Alyssa glanced after Nigor and smiled. "Just
getting some fresh air." Her dark eyes were
mysterious, and Morg wondered if something was
going on between her and his trusted first mate. He
glanced at Nigor's disappearing back and then again
at Alyssa. She had walked on, though, and he
couldn't see her face anymore. "Interesting," he
thought. He would have to keep an eye on those
two.
It was the next morning when the Aphrodite and
the Nemesis sailed into the harbor. The sun was
just rising, casting a fiery glow behind their sails,
and those watching could have said the Nemesis
was sailing in straight from hell. The black ship
against the fiery background was an amazing sight,
and it was easy to see why people allowed fear and
myth to inspire awe of Jacques LaSalle.
While Jacques might not have been the devil
incarnate, he certainly felt like it. His mood had not
improved overnight, and he was growling at
everyone. After a bad night, he had convinced
himself that Frankie must have slept with the
Spaniard after all, and his jealousy was putting him
a mood as black as his ship.
Frenchy, however, was in a jubilant mood. His
wife was here, and he was more than ready to see
her again! He slipped the Nemesis into the berth

344
next to hers and waved to her. Victoria waved
back, smiling with pleasure.
Jacques was watching the Aphrodite that Pierre
had docked just before them, and he saw Kat and
Frankie headed down the gangplank, and coming
their way. From the grim look on the girls' faces,
he was sure they had seen Victoria at the rail of the
ship, awaiting the Nemesis.
"Is this how you wish Victoria to meet her
daughters?" Jacques asked with concern.
Frenchy looked, and his face went sour.
"Merde! No dresses or anything…if Victoria does not
recognize them, I'm not sure she would wish to own
two such unladylike daughters!"
The two men hurried down their own plank and
intercepted the girls as they were coming upon the
Nemesis' berth. Jacques spoke to Frankie. "You
surely cannot mean to meet your mother dressed
like that?" he said dryly. "She is a woman of
culture, and nobility. She would not appreciate
seeing her daughters dressed like hellions."
"Well, perhaps we aren't the Duke's daughters,
so we don't mind being dressed like this," Kat
replied snidely.
Morg had been watching since dawn and had
seen the events about to happen. Hurrying over to
the four, he caught Kat's last comment. "Ye
certainly have a sharp tongue, lass. That was
uncalled for." His green eyes pinned hers in a fierce
gaze. He devoured the sight of her hungrily even
though he was unhappy with her temper.
"Well, then, if you are MY daughter, ma petite, I
will be happy to teach you some manners and see
to it that you are taught proper dress as befitting
your mother's station," Frenchy returned proudly,
his brown eyes flashing. "And a trip over my knee
would be the first lesson."
345
 "Frenchy? What is going on here?" came a soft
voice from behind the men. They turned, and there
stood Victoria, her gentle eyes so like Frankie's
were questioning, wondering why he had not come
to greet her. Had he not missed her as much as
she had him? Her gaze scanned the two girls the
men had been talking to. She was shocked to see a
young girl that looked so much like her! Her face
going pale, she stepped closer. "Who are you?"
Frankie trembled with reaction. Five years they
had waited for this moment, and her mother did not
know her! If not for Frenchy's warning, she would
have been totally devastated. She found she could
not speak as it was, the disappointment washing
over her like a tidal wave. She had SO hoped it
would be different!
Kat, too, seemed stunned, her quick tongue
silent for once. Part of her had been convinced that
they were lying, and it was all an elaborate hoax,
but when her mother had been revealed as the men
stepped aside, she knew she had been wrong.
She was even more disappointed to see that her
mother didn't recognize them, not even Frankie who
looked so much like her. It was almost more than
Kat could bear, and her face was pale with shock.
Frenchy went to Victoria and picked up her
hands, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. "It is so
good to see you again, ma cherie, how I have
missed you!"
"And I you my husband," Victoria returned
softly. Her gaze swiftly returned to the girls at the
sound of their shocked gasps.
"You can't mean that!" exclaimed Kat. Her
fingers trembled as her hand extended towards her
mother.
"Kat!" spoke Morg decisively pulling her by the
waist up against his side.
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347
 Frankie couldn't take anymore at that moment.
Her eyes were huge and dark in her ashen face, and
realizing her mother was married to this pirate was
the last straw.
Whirling, she began running back towards the
Aphrodite, past Pierre who was just coming up to
them and beyond the ship. She didn't know where
she was going; she just knew she had to get
away…away from them all!

348
 Chapter Nineteen

“Merde!” Jacques swore softly and started after

Frankie. He couldn’t let her go off alone like that; he
had just gotten her back. And especially not after
the shock she had just received.
Victoria was a very intelligent woman. She
might not know what was going on, but she knew
something was wrong! She turned to Kat. “Of
course, I mean that, Frenchy is my husband, why
shouldn’t I?” she queried softly.
Looking at Frenchy she asked, “What is going
on, Frenchy, who are these young women?” She
was beginning to think it might have something to
do with her past, and for an instant, Frankie’s
shocked face flashed through her mind. But it was
from another time, another place. As quickly as it
came, the image was gone, and she shook her head
uneasily.
“Victoria, I had not planned to tell you like this. I
wanted the opportunity to break it gently, but that
is gone now.” Frenchy spoke resignedly, his glance
sliding reproachfully to Kat and back. “Kat here, and
Frankie are your twin daughters. They have been
looking for you, and I brought you here to meet
them, again.”
Victoria gasped and went pale, and her gaze
jerked back to Kat. “My…my daughters?” Her hand
shook as it went to her mouth. “But…but how can
this be? How could I forget my own flesh and blood!
Mon Dieu, I would never have thought it possible!
What kind of a woman am I, Frenchy? And why did
you never tell me this?” She looked accusingly at
Frenchy, as if she didn’t know him.
“I did not wish to cause you pain, ma amie,”
replied Frenchy hoarsely. “I…had reason to believe

349
they were dead. I did not know they lived until a
few days ago, when they came here.”
Kat stepped forward then. “We are not dead,
Mother, and we have been searching for you for the
last five years.” Her voice dropped to a hoarse
whisper. “It is I who thought you were dead.
Frankie has always believed you were alive, and
Pierre and I have followed her to hell and back to
find you.”
Victoria reached out and touched Kat’s soft
cheek, her hand trembling. “You are so beautiful, so
vibrant and alive. You do not look like me, yet you
seem so familiar.”
“I look like my father,” Kat replied softly, tears
in her eyes.
“Your father was killed when Jacques attacked
our ship. Isn’t that right, Frenchy?” She glanced up
at the grim pirate, who nodded his agreement.
“But how is it you girls survived? Frenchy said
there were no survivors, except me.”
“He must have thought there were no
survivors,” Pierre broke in. “But, in truth, Frankie
and I did survive. Kat, here, was not on that trip.”
“And who are you?” Victoria focused on Pierre,
the shock beginning to abate a little as these
revelations sank in.
“Pierre Matis Fontaine, Gatineau’s brother and
Uncle to the girls,” he responded. “It is good to see
you alive and well, Victoria. We have much to
discuss.”
“Yes, it would seem so,” agreed Victoria, taking
Kat’s hand. “I have children I wish to remember.”
She smiled sweetly at Kat, her eyes misting slightly
with tears. “And, perhaps, their husbands?” She
looked inquiringly at Morg, noting the possessive
way he held onto Kat.

350
 “We are not married…Mother,” added Kat. It was
difficult for her to actually believe her Mother was
standing in front of her. She had not addressed her
in five years, and the word did not come easily
anymore.
“Not yet, anyway,” mumbled Morg, his hot stare
drinking her in.
Kat sent him a fierce glare, and Victoria couldn’t
help smiling. “And Frankie? Is she married?” She
sent a worried look down the beach where her
daughter and Jacques had disappeared.
“No,” chuckled Frenchy. “But Jacques is working
on taming her.”
Victoria arched an eyebrow, and the other three
were reminded of Frankie when her temper was
riled. “Is that so?” she purred sweetly. “Perhaps I
need to have a word with Jacques?”
“You need to have a large stick for that man,”
muttered Kat.
“I see your motherly instincts are well intact, ma
cherie,” Frenchy replied, his brown eyes twinkling.
“And, you have some explaining to do as well,”
she retorted, her hands going to her hips.
Kat was delighted while Frenchy looked
chagrined.
“It seems there is much to be discussed,” Morg
interjected smoothly. “Why don’t we all meet for
lunch at the mansion? I can apprise you of the
current situation, and we can talk.
“Situation?” questioned Pierre.
“Yes, we have a situation, and I’ve already told
the other Captains. Perhaps Frankie can shed some
more light on the situation now that she is back.”
He turned to Kat. “Kat, will you accompany me? I
would like to speak with you.”
Kat looked from Morg to her mother and
hesitated.
351
 Victoria reached out and took both of Kat’s small
hands in hers. “Shall we meet for lunch, my dear?
When you have had time to change clothes and be
properly attired for lunch at the Governors home?”
Victoria wanted to speak with Frenchy alone and
have time to absorb these changes in her life. She
was putting on a brave front, but inside, she was
scared and unsure of herself. She fell back on good
manners and breeding as all nobility did, even
though she didn’t know she was nobility.
She smiled as she spoke, and Kat was not
offended. She knew her mother, and her mother
had always been big on protocol, just like Pierre.
She wrinkled her nose and nodded her head. “Fine,
Mother, we’ll meet at noon, then.” She watched
wistfully as Pierre led her mother aboard the
Nemesis.
Morg took her arm and gently tugged her along
with him, putting her up into Aramis’s saddle and
swinging up behind her. Pants on women did have a
few advantages he reflected.
“Where are we going?” Kat asked, leaning back
into his broad chest. She fought with her feelings.
She didn’t want to feel anything for this man except
disgust, but her traitorous body would not allow it.
It did feel good to be held, though, and she relaxed
and laid her head back on his shoulder.
______________

Jacques caught up with Frankie as they entered

the forest cover near the glade pool. “Stop running,
Frankie,” he panted, grabbing her arm and pulling
her to a stop.
“Just leave me alone,” Frankie shrieked, kicking
out at him. “Just go away and leave me alone!”

352
353
 “I’m not about to leave you alone, ma petite,”
he ground out, grunting as her boot connected with
his shin. “And stop kicking me!”
Frankie began to pummel his chest with her fists
until he pulled her in so close to him that she
couldn’t move her arms. She fought like a wildcat
for a moment, but Jacques held her firmly, not
letting her pull away from him.
When she began kicking him again, he forced
her to the ground and lay on top of her, holding her
tightly, so she couldn’t kick or hit him. Finally,
frustrated, she began to sob wildly as if her heart
was breaking.
“It is all right, ma petite, let it out,” he said
soothingly. When she began to relax, he cautiously
lifted his hand and smoothed her hair back from her
face and brushed away the tears that were
streaming into her hair. She cried harder, and he
finally set up and pulled her into his arms and
rocked her, holding her dark head in the crook of
his shoulder.
Frankie let go of the built up tensions and
frustrations of the last five years as she wept into
Jacques’s broad shoulder. The rocking motion was
soothing to her, and she cried until no more tears
came. Then, she just sat quietly, softly hiccupping
now and then, allowing the comfort of his arms to
soothe her. She didn’t have any strength of her own
left at the moment, and she drew from his.
“Your mother may gain her memory of you
again, ma petite, you must give it time,” Jacques
said quietly.
Frankie lifted her head to look up into his dark
eyes. “You really think so, Jacques?” Her tear
washed eyes looked hopeful, their lack of animosity
making Jacques want to protect her from any
possible future hurt.
354
355
 “I spoke with a Doctor on Tortuga,” he replied.
“He said that traumatic shock can often cause a
person to lose their memory. Quite often, they will
recover it if certain things from their past can
provide a trigger for that to happen. I can’t think of
a more powerful trigger than a daughter.”
“I hope you are right, Jacques,” Frankie said
bitterly. “If not, the past five years have been
almost wasted.”
Jacques lifted her chin in his large palm. “Not
wasted, ma cherie. You have found her and know
that she is alive; that is a big relief for you. And, for
what it’s worth, Frankie, I’m sorry.” He ran his
thumb across her soft rosy lips and bent to kiss
them gently. “I’m sorry to be the one who has
caused you such pain in your young life. I know how
it feels to lose home and family and those dear to
you.”
Frankie stared at him. “That means a lot to me,
Jacques, thank you.” She pulled his head down, so
her lips could meet his once again, and she softly
clung to him, and then pulled back. “Jacques, who
are you?”
Jacques looked at her, then looked into the
distance, his mind bringing up old memories for
himself. “It doesn’t matter at this point, ma petite.
Suffice it to say that the French crown and I are old
enemies. My parents live in disgrace, and I am
falsely accused of being a traitor to my country.”
“Who is accusing you?”
He looked down at her. “If I knew the answer to
that question, ma amie, I would go back to France
and see that their traitorous mouth was silenced. As
it is, I am a wanted man in my own country.”
“Just like Kat and I,” Frankie said.
“Just like you and Kat,” he agreed heavily.
“So that’s why you turned to piracy.”
356
 “Oui, Frankie. I only wanted to hurt France. And
anything I could do was to that end. However, I find
I have tired of hunting French merchant ships and
so have thrown in with Morg to be head of island
security here at the Hideaway.”
“But, you are still being a pirate. Look what we
did to the Spanish fleet!”
Jacques shrugged. “Morg has no love for the
Spanish. He has his own reasons for being a pirate,
just like you and I. Hitting the Spanish treasure
galleons was for personal reasons, as well as
monetary.”
“Morg is Scottish, what personal vendetta could
he hold for the Spanish?” Frankie was puzzled.
“I don’t know for sure, but I believe it has to do
with Alyssa,” Jacques returned. “He is very
protective of her, and she does not like the Spanish,
either. It is for her that he insists on ten percent of
the treasure being distributed to the monastery on
one of the other islands.”
“So, he really does do that with the ten
percent?”
“Oui, he really does,” smiled Jacques. His white
teeth gleamed. “You and Kat are so mistrustful, ma
petite. It is not wise to be so critical of things you
do not understand.”
“Maybe,” agreed Frankie. “Then again, we have
not had much reason to trust, either.”
“I would say that is true, ma petite.” He looked
up at the sun making its way to the high point in
the sky. “We should be getting back. I’m quite sure
Victoria is very worried about you by this time, and
Kat has explained what is going on.”
“Oui, I guess you are right.” Frankie sighed
deeply and looked up at his strong face. “Thank
you, Jacques, for explaining these things to me. I

357
shall continue to hope Mother will recover her
memory. I know I’ll do my best to help her.”
“You are welcome, ma amie,” replied Jacques,
rising and pulling her to her feet. “But, you and I
have an appointment, soon.” He ran his palm down
the back of her breeches, lightly squeezing the
globes of her buttocks.
Suddenly breathless, Frankie spoke. “We do? I
shall look forward to it, Monsieur.”
He pulled his head back and looked into her
eyes. “What? You look forward to a spanking? I
must say your behavior is improving in leaps and
bounds,” he teased.
Frankie’s face fell. “A spanking?”
His face went stern, then, and he was no longer
teasing. “Oui, ma petite. You went into the jungle
with just you and Rosalie. That was a very
dangerous thing to do, and you are lucky to be here
to talk about it.”
“But…but Kat was going with us; we were
perfectly safe,” she protested.
“No, Frankie, neither you nor Kat had your
swords with you that night. If Kat had gone with
you, Rosalie would have most likely suffered a
horrible fate, and you two would still have been
captured.”
“Kat is excellent with knives,” Frankie said hotly,
but even she knew that Kat would have been no
match for laudanum.
“They had their plans made well in advance and
were just waiting for the opportunity to snatch you
and Kat. You gave it to them…handed it right into
their laps, as a matter of fact.”
Frankie opened her mouth to protest once again,
but Jacques shushed her with his hand over her
mouth. “No more! You will be getting a hard
spanking…and soon. Right now, there is too much
358
going on, but very soon, ma petite, I shall remove
your ability to sit for a few days. Maybe that will
make you think before being so careless with your
own life and the lives of others.” He turned her
around and landed a hard slap right in the middle of
her buttocks. “Now, lets go.”
Angry, Frankie rubbed her bottom cheeks and
walked silently ahead of him. She just wouldn’t talk
to him for a while, the insufferable man! How could
she have thought she cared for him?
______________

“Where are we going, Morg?” Kat questioned as

he lead Aramis along a path that finally emptied
along another shoreline, away from the docks. In
the distance, Kat could see the surf crashing against
a rocky patch that lead to higher ground. The white
curl of foam rushed back into the sea. It was a wild
scene, and it appealed to Kat’s wild nature.
“I wanted to show you this scenery, lass,”
replied Morg. “I figured it would appeal to ye, as
well as give me a chance to greet ye properly.” He
slid from the horse and took Kat’s small waist and
lifted her down onto this chest. With his arms below
her bottom cheeks he reached for her lips, but she
drew back.
“And what makes you think I’d want to kiss such
a large, lumbering pirate,” mocked Kat, her green
eyes glittering.
“Are ye defying me? Ye who are a little bit of
nothing in my arms?” he gave a mock growl and
glared at her, insisting with his eyes that she lean
into his kiss, so he could reach her lips.
Kat could not resist the opportunity to tease
him. Slowly, painfully slowly, she leaned forward
until her lips were a hair’s breadth from his. “Of
course, I’m defying you, what else did you expect?”
359
she breathed against his mouth, still not touching
him. She rested her small palms against his
massive shoulders and kept her distance.
Suddenly, his right hand shot up and entangled
itself in her hair, and he forced her into his waiting
mouth, crushing his firm lips against her soft pink
ones. When she was breathless, he let her go. “One
of these days, ye will beg me for a kiss, little lass,”
he vowed. “Not only a kiss but for me to fill the
ache in your body.”
“Ha!” she said in derision. “That will be the day,
Monsieur,” she challenged.
“Be careful, wee one,” he replied, taking her
hand to walk along the beach. “Or it will be today!”
Kat fell silent, fully believing he had the power
to do as he said. She already burned for him, just
being close to him again, but there were other
things on her mind that were bothering her. Like
her mother. She occupied Kat’s thoughts as they
walked along.
Finally, Morg sat down on a large boulder and
drew her onto his lap, just holding her in his strong
embrace.
“So what did you want to talk to me about,
Morg?” questioned Kat at last. After all, he had been
the one to tell her he wanted to have a word with
her.
Morg kind of hated to spoil the mood, and he
knew his next words would have her angry with him
again. Still, he had to do it. “I wanted to know what
possessed ye and Frankie to take Rosalie off into
the forest without an escort the other night? I don’t
have to remind ye why ye should have used better
judgment do I?” He paused and looked sternly at
her. “If not for Pierre, Rosalie would most likely be
dead now, used and discarded by Chandler’s dogs.”

360
 Kat hated to admit it, but she knew he was right
concerning Rosalie. She, too, knew what they had
wanted. Still, she had a feeling she knew what he
was getting around to, and her bottom cheeks
tingled in protest as if they were begging for her
protection.
She opened her mouth to formulate a protest,
but she couldn’t think of anything that sounded
reasonable. They both knew what had happened.
Even her and Frankie’s knives would not have been
enough protection against determined kidnappers.
“At a loss for words, lass?” Morg was somewhat
amused that her mouth was open, but nothing was
coming out.
“Certainly not,” huffed Kat. “I know where this is
going, and I’m telling you, you have NO right to
spank me!”
“I have every right; ye belong to me!”
“Might I remind you that we are NOT married,
therefore I do NOT belong to you,” seethed Kat.
“Maybe married men may get away with spanking
their wives, but you are NOT married to me!” Her
green eyes shot daggers at him.
Morg looked interested. “Are ye saying if we
were married, ye would submit willingly if I decided
ye needed a spanking?”
“Would I have a choice?” scoffed Kat scornfully.
“Aye, ye would have a choice. Ye could either
submit willingly and take what ye have coming, or I
could force ye over my knee and give it to
ye…either way ye would still be spanked…as my
wife, of course,” he added helpfully.
“Oh, you are impossible,” stormed Kat. “What
kind of a choice is that? Never mind, we are not
married, so it’s completely irrelevant.”

361
 “Not quite, who said we have to be married for
me to spank ye when ye need it? I believe I’ve
already warmed your wee bottom once already.”
Kat’s eyes narrowed. “An error in judgment on
your part, Monsieur, I’ve merely been too busy for
reprisals. Do you sleep soundly at night?” Her small
teeth gleamed in a feral smile, and he was
nonplussed for a moment.
“I sleep very well, thank ye, but I come awake
instantly when disturbed,” he purred smoothly.
“Then I shall have to make sure my knife strikes
true the first time, won’t I?” she purred back.
“That would be best,” he agreed amiably. “If ye
think ye can do it, lass. I have my doubts on that
score.” His fingers began swirling small circles along
her thigh moving closer and closer to the sweet
juncture of thigh and hip.
Kat hissed sharply as desire began to prick at
her abdomen.
“Of course, ye will have to move into the manor
with me…that is, if ye want the chance to get to me
in my sleep, although I’m well warned now.” He
grinned, knowing the effect he was having on her at
the color change in her beautiful eyes. “Perhaps I
shall have to put manacles on the bedposts to keep
ye under control, so ye don’t disturb my sleep.”
He was surprised when the knife appeared
between their faces, and Kat’s eyes glowed in
triumph. “I guess you were not expecting that were
you, Monsieur,” she said silkily. “I could have just
as easily slipped it between your ribs, you know.”
Grabbing her wrist with one hand, he took the
knife from her with the other and tossed it aside.
Then he pulled her on over his strong thigh where
she landed with a surprised squeal. “And, I guess ye
weren’t expecting this, were ye?” he asked just as
silkily. Lifting his broad palm he brought it crashing
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363
 down on the seat of her breeches. “Didn’t your
mother ever tell it’s not safe to play with knives?”
Kat shrieked and yelped, “I do NOT play with
knives, Monsieur!”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“Ye had no intention of using that on me, lass.
We both know it, and that makes it play…and
playing with knives can be dangerous…CRACK!
CRACK! CRACK…in more ways than one.”
“Fine, you have made your point, Monsieur, now
let me up!” demanded Kat, her bottom burning and
stinging.
“I’ll decide when my point has been made
sufficiently,” returned Morg smoothly, landing three
more blistering spanks on her writhing seat.
“OW! YEOECH!” yelped Kat thoroughly furious
by this time. She tried to kick out but her legs were
between Morg’s, and she couldn’t go anywhere.
Pausing, his hand rubbing her bottom, he spoke.
“Now then, little lass, do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly,” gritted Kat from her humiliating
position. She looked longingly at the knife laying on
the sand not far from them, but knew in her heart
she could never use it…not anymore.
“Lest ye be confused,” Morg inserted helpfully,
“this wee spanking is just an object lesson, and ye
will still feel the bite of my paddle on this lovely rear
end for leaving the party. If ye don’t believe me,
ask Rosalie.”
“Let me guess…you spanked her for leaving the
party,” bit out Kat, wishing he would let her up.
“What a brute!”
“Not yet, I won’t spank her until she is well, but
when she is, I think I’ll spank ye both together.
Then maybe the message will get across to ye
stubborn wenches.” He pulled her up then and set

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 her back on his knee to look into her concerned red
face.
“Rosalie got hurt? Is she okay?”
“Aye, she will be fine. One of the cannonballs
from the ship exploded a tree near her and Frankie
when they were trying to get to the beach, and a
large chunk of wood was imbedded in her leg. It has
been removed, and Alyssa is watching her. So far,
she is doing well.” He watched her guardedly.
Kat trembled as the horror of the last few days
came rushing back, and she truly realized how
Rosalie could be dead right now…and Frankie too.
And all because she had wanted to show them the
glade pool.
Mutely, she stared at Morg, her feelings a
chaotic jumble. She buried her face in Morg’s broad
chest, instinctively seeking his comfort in spite of
herself. “I’m so sorry, Morg, I hope she gets well.”
She knew full well how infection could set in easily
in these tropical climates, and she would never wish
for Rosalie to be harmed. She felt guilty, suddenly,
and hot tears spurted to her eyes. This was so
strange; she was not normally a weepy person.
“Aye, well that’s a start, lass,” he rumbled from
deep in his chest. When he felt the dampness
against his shirt, he lifted her head to look into her
face. He dropped his head and tenderly took her
soft lips, drawing her close against him protectively.
“Hush, lass, I don’t like to see ye cry, whatever else
ye may believe about me.”
Kat clung to him, and he began divesting her of
her clothing…and his. Laying her on their clothing
on the sand, he took her gently. Kat responded, the
tears trickling down her cheeks in spite of herself.
She was falling in love with this damnable pirate,
and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

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 Her head lay submissively against his shoulder
when he carried her into the surf to cleanse their
bodies. She let the waves lap gently around her,
pushing her into his broad chest with each bob, and
she put her legs around his waist and clung to him.
“We’d best be getting back, lass,” he said
gently, after enjoying the soothing sounds of the
surf and the warmth of the red headed sprite
clinging to him. “It’s almost noon, and your mother
will be expecting ye in a dress for lunch.”
Kat came out of her relaxed reverie and smiled
up at him. “I’ll tell you a little secret, Monsieur…I
love dresses. It is Frankie who hates to get dressed
up, but I think that is only because she feels
defenseless in one. With a dress on, she can’t wear
her sword. But me, I can always wear my knives,
no matter what I have on.”
Morg caressed her bare buttocks beneath the
surface of the water. “Ye just remember what I told
ye about playing with knives, wee one. If ye are
going to pull them on someone, plan to use them.
They are not toys.”
Kat didn’t say anything else, not with her
bottom bare, but she thought a lot. She smiled
sweetly at him and didn’t answer.
Morg, in turn, was suspicious of that sweet
smile. What was the little vixen thinking now?

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 Chapter Twenty

Victoria had just stepped inside the cabin when

she whirled on Frenchy with a stream of French
invectives that made even him blush! “How could
you not tell me I had twin daughters? You should
have told me! How dare you hide things from me,
Frenchy!”
She advanced on him, her eyes blazing. “What
else are you hiding from me, Monsieur, out with it?
Do I have a son somewhere, too, that you have
hidden knowledge of? Do you know who I am? You
told me we had met and been lovers before and in
love with each other, and I felt the truth of your
words. You said you never knew who I was, do
you?”
“Yes, but…” Frenchy tried to speak, but Victoria
rolled right on over the top of him.
“Aha! Another lie! Mon Dieu, how many more,
Frenchy? What have you kept from me that would
bring my memory back…that I might need to know?
What? Tell me, this instant!”
“Victoria, I…”
Victoria threw her hands in the air and overruled
him once again. “And, now my daughters have
found me, and I have hurt them because I do not
remember them…they might think I have deserted
them. For all I know…I might have!” She stood
shaking, staring accusingly at Frenchy. “They are so
beautiful and the one…she is so much like me, how
could I have deserted my own children…tell me
that, Frenchy…”
“Stop it, Victoria,” demanded Frenchy gruffly.
“Non, I will not stop, I…”
“You WILL stop, ma petite and stop this instant!
Or I will put you in the best position to stop you and
make you listen to me.”
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369
 Victoria’s hands instinctively flew to her
backside, and her big eyes stared accusingly up at
him, but she went silent.
“I see you remember what that is, ma petite,”
Frenchy said dryly. Then he sighed and took her
trembling hands in his. “I understand you are upset,
but give me a chance to explain, and it will all be
clear, please, ma petite?”
“Oui, Frenchy,” replied Victoria, trying to calm
herself. “I’m sorry, Frenchy, its just that I am so
shocked and…and hurt…and…” she sobbed then, the
tears spilling from her eyes as she tried to choke
back her feelings.
Frenchy took her in his strong arms and held her
close, letting her vent her feelings this way, rubbing
her back. As he held her, he began to tell her of her
past with him and how he had found out who she
was. And that he had known of her pregnancy but
had thought her child would surely have been on
board the merchant vessel and lost along with her
husband. He hadn’t known she had delivered twins,
or even what their sex was. He confessed he hadn’t
tried very hard to find out. He hadn’t even known
where to begin looking.
“So you see, ma amie, I wanted to spare you
the pain of losing a child. And, I do admit, knowing
how we had loved each other in Paris, I wanted to
keep that love for myself once I had found it again.”
He tipped his hand under her chin and forced her to
look up at him. “Can you forgive me, ma petite?”
“Of course, I can,” she whispered. “I see now
that it was truly not your fault, and you were trying
to protect me. After all, you didn’t have to send for
me. You could have told them I was dead…but you
didn’t.”
“Once they were here, I could not do that,”
Frenchy answered sadly. “Although I was very
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tempted to do so. I do not wish to lose you, ma
cherie.”
“I will never stop loving you, Frenchy,” Victoria
said fervently. “Nothing can change that!”
“Not even knowing you are the Duchess of
Frontenac?”
The blood drained from Victoria’s face, and she
slowly sat down in the closest chair. “Did you
say…Duchess?”
“Oui,” replied Frenchy heavily. “Victoria
Fontaine, the Duchess of Frontenac and wife to
Gatineu Fontaine, the Duke of Frontenac. It was his
merchant vessel we attacked when I recognized you
and brought you aboard the Nemesis. I didn’t know
it at the time, but that is who you are.”
“Oh no, how Frankie and Kat must hate Jacques
then,” she exclaimed. “I had no idea.”
She closed her eyes and another image of
Frankie flashed across her mind, an image of her
shocked face, reaching towards her. It was gone
again as quickly as it came.
They continued to talk, Frenchy trying to tell her
everything he could remember about that day. He
didn’t remember seeing Frankie; he had been so
intent on Victoria that nothing else had mattered
except getting her to safety.
They had both been quiet for a few moments,
Victoria trying to absorb all she had heard when he
spoke again. “Come, ma petite, it is time to talk
with your daughters and have lunch at the manor
house. There is much to discuss.”
Frankie was digging through trunks looking for
the dresses she had brought along on an impulse
when they set out on this vendetta two years ago.
“What are you doing, Frankie?” asked Kat,
curiously, watching her.

371
 “I’m looking for the dresses we wore at our
coming out ball,” came Frankie’s muffled reply, her
head deep in a trunk.
“What for?”
“Because those dresses were special, and I’m
hoping it might jog Mother’s memory,” confessed
Frankie stopping to peer at Kat over the trunk lid. “I
know Father paid a lot for those dresses, and I
remember him complaining to her about it.”
“You actually packed those?”
“Yes, I did…wait…here they are!” Flushed but
triumphant, Frankie brought the dresses from the
bottom of the trunk and unwrapped them from the
paper they were stored in.
The girls stood looking at the dresses on the
floor, fingering the lace and ribbons and the
beautiful materials. They had worn them for their
coming out ball…on their sixteenth birthday.
“It seems a lifetime ago,” whispered Kat. “But I
still remember coming down the spiral staircase and
Father waiting at the bottom for us."
“Oui, and Pierre was there too.”
“And Mace,” added Kat painfully. Compared to
Morg, Mace now seemed a boyish youth, and she
realized she had outgrown her childish love for him.
“You see the memories it has brought back, just
looking at these dresses?” Frankie’s
eyes were fierce, her body tense.
“You are hoping it will help Mother to remember
us,” Kat replied.
“Exactly! Come on, let’s get dressed.”
Kat and Frankie deliberately waited until Victoria
and Frenchy had gone up the hill before they left
the ship.
When they stepped out of the cabin, Jacques
and Pierre were waiting for them.

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 Jacques stared at the vision walking towards
him. Frankie was without a doubt the most beautiful
woman he had ever seen in his life, and he was
having a hard time breathing. “Mon Dieu!” he
muttered to himself.
When she smiled tentatively at him, it was like
the sun coming out, and if he hadn’t been hooked
before, he was now.
“You are beautiful, ma amie,” he whispered
gruffly, unable to take his eyes off her. She was
dressed in a dark green, off the shoulder gown that
hugged her breasts lovingly and slid down the curve
of her waist and shapely hips to fall to the floor in a
graceful sweep. The curves of her breasts were
pushed just above the bodice, which was white satin
in the center of it and all the way to the floor. Tiny
lace edged where the white satin met the dark
green and tiny green crystal beads adorned the
center of the panel…all floor length. The puff of the
sleeve fell off her arms and was gathered at the
base of the puff. Long white finger gloves went to
her upper arm, just three inches short of the
sleeves, leaving her slender fingers bare.
Kat had put her hair up for her in a beautiful
jeweled comb and curls fell along the sides of her
head and down her long slender neck. She wore a
simple gold necklace with an emerald pendant on
the chain that fell just to the tops of her creamy
breasts. The dark green of her gown turned her
eyes a deep sea green color and made them seem
more mysterious as she watched him in return.
“Your birthday gowns,” murmured Pierre as
awestruck as Jacques, although he had seen them
before. There was a new depth of maturity in the
girl’s faces that hadn’t been there when they were
sixteen, though, and it made them even more
appealing.
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 Morg was going to be as devastated as Jacques,
thought Pierre, as he inspected Kat. Kat, too, was
dressed in a green gown, but different than the dark
winter green that complimented Frankie’s coloring
so perfectly. Kat’s was a shimmering emerald green
satin that matched the beauty of her eyes. The
sleekness of the off the shoulder gown
complimented Kat’s tiny figure perfectly without the
need for bows and frills. Pearls adorned the creamy
expanse of her neckline, and they shimmered with a
slight warm pink glow.
She, too, was adorned with white gloves to her
upper arms and a beautiful set of pearl inlaid combs
that allowed her red gold curls to tumble down her
back, but away from her delicate ears. Small curls
adorned her temples and ears, and their burnished
gold color accented her beautiful skin. Both girls
were indeed exquisite.
“Are we going to stand here all day while you
men stare at us,” teased Kat. They had gathered
quite a crowd of men around them, all just standing
and staring wistfully.
“Pardon us,” Gaston replied with a bow. “But, it
has been a long time since any of us were home
and among our lovely women, and it is a pleasure
just to look at your beauty and femininity.”
“At this rate, we are going to need an armed
escort,” muttered Jacques, looking around him.
“That is not a bad idea, Jacques,” Pierre replied.
“Gaston, choose some men and escort us to the
mansion if you would be so kind?”
Immediately, men began volunteering, but
Gaston chose three to accompany them. The rest
just watched as the party made its way up the hill.
When Alyssa escorted the party into the drawing
room of the mansion, Morg felt like the wind had
been knocked out of him once again. Even as
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375
prepared as he thought he was for Kat in a dress,
he realized he was still unprepared for the effect
she had on his senses. When he heard the gasp
from Victoria, he turned to look at her.
Images were flashing through Victoria’s mind at
an amazing rate. Trembling, she stood and stared
at the girls, seeing them coming down a spiral
staircase, laughing. They had been beautiful, and
she felt the pride she had felt then sweeping over
her once again.
Then they appeared with a man whose face was
not clear and disappeared again. Images crowded in
upon her, and she put her hand to her throat and
closed her eyes. She saw Kat standing on a dock,
waving good-bye. Frankie, with fear and shock on
her face, reaching for her…so many images flashing
by.
“Are you all right, Victoria?” The voice crowded
in on her, and she opened her eyes and looked into
Frenchy’s concerned face.
“Yes, yes I am…all right.” She looked at Frankie
then. She had yet to greet this daughter of hers
properly, and she walked forward on trembling
knees to take her hands in her own.
“Hello, Frankie,” she said softly. “You are
beautiful, my child.” She looked at Kat and took her
hand too. “And you too, my darling, you are both so
beautiful. Those gowns…I saw you for a moment on
a white spiral staircase…in those gowns.”
“You remember?” Frankie asked hopefully
gripping her mother’s hand tightly.
“I am having…flashes of memories.
Images…they come and go quickly.”
“These gowns are the ones we wore for our
coming out ball, on our sixteenth birthday,” Frankie
replied disappointedly. She had hoped for more
than this.
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 “The 24th of October,” Victoria spoke
automatically, and then looked surprised.
“You ARE remembering,” Kat spoke excitedly.
“That is our birthday!”
“The 24th of October is in a few weeks.” Morg
spoke up, walking over to Kat and putting his arm
around her tiny waist. “We need to have a birthday
celebration, lass!”
“I had forgotten it was coming up,” murmured
Frankie.
“You will be 21 years old,” Victoria said with a
lovely smile.
“Maybe, by then, you will have remembered
even more,” Frankie added hopefully, watching her
mother. How she longed for her mother to
remember the special relationship they had shared
as mother and daughter. She wanted it back.
“I hope so, darling,” replied Victoria, watching
Frankie in return. “I’m trying hard to remember all I
can.” She felt a special kinship with this daughter
and realized they must have been close. She smiled
warmly at her.
“Time for lunch,” Morg announced briskly. “And I
have news for Jacques and Frenchy that Pierre can
help me spread along. Precautions to be taken.
Come, lass,” he said to Kat and held out his arm to
accompany her to the table.
The next week at the Pirates Hideaway was a
time of healing for everyone, a time of replenishing
and rebuilding from the damages of the attack by
Chandler and Pedro.
During that time Kat and Frankie spent
delightful hours getting to know their mother again,
and the life she had spent with Frenchy. Kat and
Morg, and Frankie and Jacques had time to get to
know each other in a peaceful setting although their

377
emotions were all strong in dealing with each
other.
Rosalie was up and doing well, her leg healing
very nicely with no infection to slow the process,
and she was almost back to full capacity. She was
very nervous, however, because Morg kept looking
meanfully at her, and she had a feeling it was only a
matter of time before he decided to mete out her
punishment.
Kat and Frankie commiserated with her and
knew they too were being given borrowed time as
well. The three girls had discussed it and all knew
that while the men were not saying anything right
now, they hadn’t forgotten their promise to them,
no matter how much they hoped they would.
“Sometimes, I just wish he would get it over
with,” Rosalie sighed as the girls walked along the
beach together, two men behind them; one man for
Rosalie and one man for the twins.
“I still don’t think we need an escort,” scoffed
Kat. “Frankie and I both fight better than our
escorts. What good would they do if we were
attacked?”
Frankie was a little more understanding. “It’s
not that they can protect us better, Kat, it’s just
that men respect men more. With men as an escort,
other men automatically assume that we are being
carefully protected and watched, and they back off.”
She shrugged her slender shoulders. “At least,
that’s what Jacques says. Dumb, I know, but there
it is.”
“Well, I for one do not wish to feel the
Governor’s paddle again,” Rosalie replied with a
grimace. “He used it on me the last time I went out
without an escort, and I hated it.”
“He has mentioned this…paddle before? What is
it like?” Kat asked curiously.
378
 “It is horrible! It is made of wood, and he holds
it in his hand, and it hurts…a lot! I had to bend over
the desk after he spanked me over his lap and
receive ten hits with that paddle. They were worse
than his hand! I will never go out without an escort
again!”
Rosalie was adamant, and Kat felt a fission of
fear. Morg’s hard hand had felt bad enough on her
tender bottom; she couldn’t imagine anything
harder or worse. He better not use it on her! She
really would knife him in his sleep!
“I know what a paddle feels like,” Frankie added
to the conversation. “Pierre used one on me for
training. But only six swats at a time.” She winced.
“I can imagine ten would hurt a lot! Especially after
already being spanked by hand.” She thought of
Jacques’s hard palm biting into her buttocks. She
agreed with Kat, their hands were hard enough!
“They really have no right to do it, anyway,”
blustered Kat, although she knew they didn’t care
whether they had the right or not.
“So?” Frankie replied dryly. “Since when has
that stopped a pirate from doing anything?”
“Or, any man, for that matter,” added Rosalie.
“No, you are right,” Frankie agreed, thinking of
cousin Snipes and what he had seen. Men could
pretty much do as they pleased, and if you loved
them, you just accepted it. It was part of life.
“Ha!” scoffed Kat. “Are we wimps? Who said we
have to take this kind of treatment! We can fight
back!”
“Sure, we can,” Frankie said derisively. “Only if
we have weapons, and then what happens when
they take them away from us, because you know
we can’t hurt them, not if we care about them.”
“Shut up, Frankie,” muttered Kat miserably,
knowing her sister was right. She couldn’t hurt Morg
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anymore. The man had gotten to her, and now she
couldn’t seriously hurt him.
Little did the girls know, but Jacques and Morg
were discussing the very same thing.
“It has been long enough, and Rosalie is
recovered sufficiently, it’s time I was giving the lass
the spanking I promised her. And Kat’s as well.”
Morg was sitting inside the doorway of the jail
talking to Jacques and watching the girls on the
beach below with their escorts.
“Oui, Morg, I promised Frankie a good spanking,
too, and it’s time for it. I have just put it off
because it has been so peaceful lately, and she has
been so sweet and well behaved. I know she isn’t
going to like it.” He stood up and stretched his tall
frame.
“Aye, that they have. But, they know it’s
coming, I’ve seen Rosalie watching me and
sometimes trying to avoid me. The lass knows I
keep my word.” He too stood up and stretched. “I
thought about letting them off, but I’m afraid if I
do, then they would be pushing it again thinking
each time I might be soft this time. Can’t let that
happen.”
“Agreed, Monsieur, best to go on as promised.”
The two men started down the beach, each
prepared to take their charges and finally get it out
of the way.
When the girls saw the men coming towards
them on the beach, they knew instantly why they
were coming.
“Oh, no,” groaned Rosalie fearfully. “I recognize
that look on Governor Macalister’s face.”
Kat and Frankie didn’t say anything, but their
hearts sank. They too recognized those looks.
Jacques stopped in front of Frankie and looked
down into her apprehensive face. “Come, ma cherie,
380
take a walk with me.” He didn’t wait for an answer,
but took her arm and walked on down the beach
with her. Frankie glanced behind her; their previous
escorts had been dismissed. She felt her stomach
jump nervously, and her knees began to feel shaky.
Morg stared down at Rosalie and Kat. “We have
an appointment in my study lass’s, now if ye
please.” He took them both by the arm and began
walking with them towards the manor house.
Rosalie trembled but did not object. Kat,
however, was immediately defiant. She tried to jerk
her arm out of Morg’s firm grasp. “I’m NOT going
with you! I know exactly what kind of appointment
you have in mind, and I’m not buying it! You have
no right, Morgan Macalister!”
Morg simply held her firmly and continued to
walk her along, his expression almost amused at
her sputtering defiance.
Incensed at this highhandedness, Kat stomped
on his foot and jerked away from him.
Morg grabbed her arm again and spoke quietly.
“Ye can come with me peacefully, lass, or I’ll bend
ye over right here for a practice session, and then
finish the job inside. Now then, do ye want
everyone to see and know about your
chastisement?”
Rosalie gasped and stood still, but Kat stared
defiantly at him. It wasn’t until he began to tuck her
under his long arm that she finally answered. “All
right, you big brute, fine…I’ll walk!”
“I’m glad to hear it, lass,” Morg replied smoothly
and took her arm again. Once inside the manor, he
escorted the girls into his study and closed the door.
“Oh dear, what is going on?” Victoria asked,
seeing her two daughters escorted in separate
directions by purposeful men. She had been playing

381
with the spyglass, and Frenchy had been pointing
out to her where her daughters were strolling.
Standing beside her, Frenchy chuckled. “Now,
ma petite, don’t tell me you don’t recognize the
signs of behavior adjustments about to take place?”
“But…but why? They have all been lovely girls, I
haven’t seen them doing anything wrong,”
protested Victoria.
“Oui,” Frenchy grinned. “Of course you haven’t,
they have been on their best behavior all week. I’m
sure they were hoping Jacques and Morg would let
their indiscretions go. But, as you can see, they are
men with a firm hand.”
“What did they do?” she asked curiously.
Frenchy explained what had happened, and she
sighed heavily. “Oui, they do deserve a spanking for
that, I’m afraid, even I can see that. Still, it
distresses me to know they will be in pain.”
“That is what mothers are for, ma amie,”
Frenchy said tenderly, holding her close. “They
always feel for their children. But Kat and Frankie
are not children anymore. They are headstrong and
willful young women, and Jacques and Morg have
seen them at their worst. They both need a firm
hand!”
“It doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Victoria
answered reproachfully.
“No, you didn’t like it when it was being applied
to you either, but you learned, ma cherie.” Frenchy
kissed her sulky lips.
______________

Frankie walked silently along with Jacques,

seething beneath her cool exterior. Being led away
like a recalcitrant child to face a childish punishment
was setting her teeth on edge.

382
383
 Finally, after several minutes, they were well
away from the settlement. The gulls screeched,
their haunting cries sounding on the wind, and the
surf lapped gently about their feet as they walked.
Jacques held Frankie’s hand firmly. He didn’t try to
fool himself into believing she would take this
submissively and without protest. Still, he had to
try.
“Are you ready for your spanking, ma petite?”
he asked quietly.
Unexpectedly, she jerked away from him and
quickly drew her sword. “I think not, Monsieur. I
refuse to let you treat me like a child.”
Jacques’s eyes narrowed. She had the light of
battle in her eyes, and he knew she was issuing a
challenge. One, he supposed, that would have come
sooner or later.
“So you think you can best me, ma petite?” he
asked dangerously.
“We shall see won’t we,” she mocked. “Arm
yourself.”
Jacques folded his arms patiently and stood at
rest, but alert. “I will give you the chance to back
down, Frankie,” he replied warningly. “You have the
chance to submit to your spanking now, before I
have to take your sword away. Once I have to do
that, you will not only feel my hand, but you will
feel my belt as well.” His dark eyes glinted, and his
chin was set in that stubborn look Frankie was
beginning to recognize.
For a fleeting moment, Frankie actually
considered it. Then she stiffened. She would not
give him the satisfaction of humbling herself for
such a humiliating punishment. She stood there
proud and defiant, daring him to do his worst.

384
 Jacques began to slowly draw his sword. “You
leave me no choice then, ma petite. This will have
to be done the hard way.”
They began to circle each other, Frankie’s heart
beating fast. She put all the concentration and skill
Pierre had taught her into the duel. They began to
parry, each feeling the other out.
Jacques soon realized that he had not seen
Frankie’s full range of skills yet. She was indeed
highly skilled. He moved lightly, parrying her
thrusts easily and she his.
The contest would be as always, first blood, or
loss of sword, whichever came first. He intended to
relieve her of her sword. As a result, the duel might
take longer, but he would not have her hurt by his
hand.
On and on they dueled, Frankie well aware of
the rules. She did not wish to draw Jacques’s blood
either. She would rather relieve him of his sword
and be triumphant, her blade at his throat to prove
she could take care of herself. She didn’t need him
to treat her like a child and protect her.
They were both in excellent shape, and neither
one was winded yet, the battle becoming faster and
more furious as they each sought to take the
other’s sword.
Jacques’s eyes gleamed with pride as he realized
the only real advantage he would have over her
would be experience and a repertoire of tricks
learned over the years. He had thoroughly enjoyed
this match, but it was time to end it and get on to
the matter at hand.
With the quickness of a cat he dropped and
rolled, his feet tucked under in a summersault and
then springing out and catching her off guard, his
foot kicking the sword from her hand.

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 Frankie was caught off guard at the unexpected
move and gasped as the sword dropped to the
sand. Quickly, she bent to retrieve it but a booted
foot landed on it. Slowly, she looked up into the
mocking eyes of her opponent. She had lost!
“Now, ma cherie,” he said silkily. “It is time for
your spanking.”

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 Chapter Twenty-One

Frankie slowly stood up, her heart beating fast

as she acknowledged defeat in her eyes. She stood
there proudly as Jacques lay his sword in the sand
and began to take off his belt. His eyes were locked
with hers, and she shivered involuntarily, the
seriousness of what she had let herself in for sinking
in as she watched him pull the belt off his narrow
hips.
“Take my hand, Frankie,” Jacques ordered
quietly, holding his hand out to her. She did so
reluctantly and allowed him to lead her to the
rocks.
When he began to undo the buttons on her
breeches, she put her hands on his. “What are you
doing?”
“I’m taking your breeches down, ma petite. This
spanking will be on bare flesh, I wish to see what I
am doing.” He pushed her breeches down to her
knees and stood back up.
She shivered as the cool wind off the water went
through her silky thigh length undergarment. They
were very light and thin, and Jacques could see
almost through them.
“Do you have any idea how worried I was when
I realized you were gone?” he asked softly.
He reached out and ran his palm down the side
of her face. “It didn’t take me long to realize you
didn’t sleep with Pedro either. The Spaniard was
lying, and I know that. I was angry and jealous.”
“I told you I didn’t,” Frankie replied proudly. She
felt very vulnerable and exposed standing there,
and she wished he would get on with it. She felt
even more exposed when he reached down and
lowered her bloomers.

388
 “I know you did, but I was so worried about you
I wasn’t thinking straight.” He sat down then and
formed a lap of long, hard thighs and began to pull
her down inexorably over them.
Frankie automatically resisted, her heart leaping
into her throat. “No, Jacques…please…”
“Too late, ma petite, over you go,” he replied
pulling her firmly down and across his lap. Lightly,
he caressed the firm buttocks that were getting
goose bumps from the cool air. They wouldn’t last
long, he knew. Then he began slapping those pale
buttocks, firm crisp swats that had her grunting and
yelping in little protests as he applied his hand.
“Jacques, please…OW! OUCH! Jacques! No!
Stop! Please…Jacquesss!” Frankie’s legs began to
pump up and down as the stinging increased, her
cries filling the air. It seemed the gulls stopped their
keening cries to listen to the human cries that
sounded on the wind for a change. A few dropped
down onto the beech and cocked their heads to the
side as if in wonder at this spectacle of human
behavior, their beady eyes bright and interested.
“You should have used common sense, Frankie,”
lectured Jacques as he continued to spank her
backside at a comfortable pace. The skin was
reddening quite fast beneath his palm. “You should
not have gone off alone with just you girls; I
warned you about that! I warned you what would
happen if you got into trouble, and you did, didn’t
you?” He spanked harder and faster.
“YESSSS,” wailed Frankie in distress. She was
bucking frantically now trying to twist her body
away from his punishing hand, but he never missed
his target.
“OWWWWoooWWWW….JACQUESSSS…..PLEASS
SSEEEEE!” Frankie began to sob as his hand
punished her thoroughly, her bouncing bottom a
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 glowing bright red when he finally stopped and
rested it on her writhing hot cheeks.
“You are not to go anywhere without a male
escort, despite your superb skills, Frankie, I mean
that,” Jacques ordered firmly. “I’m well aware you
can best most men, but that is not the point, and
you know it. You are a beautiful woman, and men
will always desire you. If nothing else, an escort will
keep away unwanted attentions, and you won’t
have to deal with them. Is that clear, ma petite?”
“YESSSS!” cried Frankie, her feet still kicking at
the throbbing burning sensations in her seat, but
she listened.
“Good, then there is only the belt left,” he said
in satisfaction as he bent and picked up the belt he
had laid by the boulder.
“NO, NO, Please Jacques, please no more!”
Frankie twisted frantically to cover her bottom with
her hands, but Jacques removed her hands and
pinned his leg over hers locking her in place.
“If you had not challenged me, I wouldn’t have
to, but you did, ma cherie. I gave you the chance to
back out, but you refused.” With her hand pinned to
her back, he brought the belt down across her
waiting cheeks.
Frankie shrieked and cried, but Jacques
determinedly spanked her until he felt she was
sufficiently punished and lay sobbing over his lap.
Then he dropped the belt and ran his palm over the
welts and the redness, softly caressing. Then he
picked her up and held her in his arms, comforting
her. “It was a good duel, ma petite. I look forward
to more with you,” he said softly.
“I h…hate you,” she sobbed, burying her face in
his chest.

391
 “I know, ma amie,” he chuckled, the laughter
rumbling in his chest beneath her ear. Then he
mouthed to the gulls. “But I think I love her.”
The gulls looked thoroughly wise as if they
understood exactly what he had said. One large bird
walked up a few feet and cocked its head at him as
if to say. “Why tell us? Tell her.”
Rosalie snuck a sideways glance at Kat as Morg
shut the door to the study and turned to face the
girls. “Whose idea was it to leave the party?” he
asked interestedly, although he was already sure of
that answer. It was confirmed when Rosalie glanced
at Kat and away.
“I saw no reason not too,” Kat replied defiantly.
“I wanted to show Rosalie and Frankie the glade
pool.” She looked apologetically at Rosalie.
“Although, I’m sorry you got hurt, Rosalie, I would
never wish that on you.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Rosalie answered quickly.
She flushed when Morg stared frostily at her.
“Ye are an impulsive wench, Kat, and quick
tempered. Ye’ve yet to learn patience and thinking
ahead to consequences. Ye girls have had nae
consequences as yet for your behavior, ye nor
Frankie either one. I intend to change that, little
lass, and hold you accountable for your impatient
decisions made in anger or haste. Ye will learn to
think.”
He looked at Rosalie. “Rosalie, ye should have
known better. Ye had just been spanked that very
afternoon for going to the shops without an escort
and yet ye let Frankie and Kat take ye out of sight
of the party. That was irresponsible and foolish and
look what happened because of it.”
Rosalie hung her head at his stern censorious
tones and whispered, “I’m sorry, sir.”

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393
 “Aye, ye will be, lass, for your punishment will
be harsher this time since it is the second time
around. For now, ye will go to the corner and wait
while I deal with Kat.” He pointed to the empty
corner, and Rosalie obediently went to it. “Nose in
the corner, lass, and think about the things I’ve
said.”
“And just what gives you the right to punish her
or me?” Kat said scornfully. She stared defiantly at
him and tossed her bright curls, but her stomach
felt queasy when he looked hard at her. It was all
she could do to stand her ground when he reached
for her and took her arm, pulling her towards a
chair.
“We’ve had this conversation before, wee lass,
and I’ll not go over it again. Rosalie is indentured to
me while ye,” he stopped and looked her in the eye,
“ye are mine.”
“But…” Kat squeaked as he quickly diverted her
breeches and bloomers to her knees. “That’s not
true…”
Without further preamble, he put his right arm
under her bare thighs and lifted her off her feet,
and then laid her across his lap, her tiny weight
nothing beneath his strong thick arms.
“No…you can’t, you…” she squeaked, unable to
utter a coherent, complete sentence before he
began blistering her backside once again.
In the corner, Rosalie began to shake, but she
didn’t dare turn around, although she would have
liked to have covered her ears as Kat’s cries and
yelps of pain filled the room. It would soon be her
turn!
Kat struggled valiantly, but her breeches and
bloomers hampered her ability to kick and, Morg’s
heavy left arm had her securely pinned until he

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decided his hard hand had landed enough times,
despite her shrieking protests.
Finally, he stood her on her feet and pointed
sternly towards the corner. “Ye will take Rosalie’s
place in the corner, and Rosalie, ye will come here.”
Clutching her bottom, and her face bright red,
Kat was barely restraining tears as she hobbled to
the corner. Rosalie shot her a glance of sympathy,
but her own heart was filled with dread as she
slowly crossed to room to stand in front of Morg.
When she reached him, he took her hand and
gently guided her over his lap, knowing she was
obedient and would not resist him like his little
hellcat. Once there, he lifted her long colorful skirt
and carefully inspected the wound. “It is healing
very nicely, lass,” he said in satisfaction.
“Yes, Sir,” replied Rosalie fearfully, her voice
wobbling as Morg pulled her bloomers down over
the wound. It was about 6 inches below her
buttocks, and she knew he would be careful not to
touch her there.
She knew she was in for a hard spanking, and
she couldn’t keep the sniffles back before he even
touched her bottom. “I’m s…sorry, Sir!”
“That’s good to know,” he replied patting her
bottom gently. Then he raised his arm and began
the spanking. Over and over his hard palm fell on
her wiggling buttocks, being careful not to go
beyond them, and she was quickly reduced to
wailing and tears.
Morg spanked her thoroughly although perhaps
not as hard as Kat, since Rosalie seemed genuinely
sorry and seemed not to have the pain tolerance
Kat did. He finally stood the crying girl up and sent
her to the corner to join Kat while he got the paddle
out.

396
 Kat heard him in the drawers and sneaked a
peek over her shoulder. Her eyes widened as she
saw what he had in his hand. The wooden paddle
looked like it had been cut precisely for just such a
use!
It was rounded and had what looked like a 6-
inch handle or so, and it fit Morg’s huge hand
perfectly. She felt herself going pale, and she
looked at Rosalie who was sobbing and holding her
bottom. She jumped when Morg called her name.
“Kat, come here, lass.” His voice brooked no
refusal, and Kat gulped, finally afraid, really afraid,
for the first time.
She glanced at the door and wondered if she
could make it there before he caught her. Probably
not with these pants around her knees, she
thought.
“Don’t even think it, lass, ye won’t like the
consequences if I have to chase ye.” Morg’s green
eyes gleamed as he watched her turn over the
possibility of running in her bright little head.
“Besides, ye won’t get far like that. It would be best
if ye just obeyed and came to me.”
Kat fought with herself, wanting to protest and
defy him, yet knowing he held the upper hand in
strength and determination. She knew she should
obey, yet she fought submitting to him. She felt
that if she submitted willingly, it was like saying she
accepted his right to do this, and she didn’t want
to…yet.
Briefly, Mace Delarouge flashed through her
mind. She had wanted to belong to him, but in the
end, he hadn’t wanted her. She had given him her
most prized possession; her virginity, and he had
tossed it casually aside. Now she didn’t belong to
anyone. She didn’t want to belong to anyone…did
she? She looked at the big man, unaware of the
397
plea in her emerald eyes, the fear that shone in
them.
For Kat, it was more than just a spanking…it was
giving herself to him, to his care and concern for
her. Did she love him? Did he love her? Or did he
just want to own her, like a possession? She
trembled with the force of her emotions, unaware of
them playing across her expressive face.
Morg waited patiently, realizing there was more
going on here than a mere punishment for Kat. It
didn’t take a mind reader to see she was struggling
with submitting to him. She wanted to, yet she
didn’t want too. She didn’t trust him.
He held out his hand to her and spoke softly.
“Ye are mine, Kat…now and always. That will never
change, and as mine, I reserve the right to correct
ye when ye need it. Now come to me.”
Kat hesitated and then began to move towards
him. Finally, she reached him and placed her small
hand trustingly in his. “Will you let me down too?”
she asked softly, her eyes finally shining with tears.
“Never, lass,” Morg said tenderly and then he
guided her across his lap. “Now then, ye are going
to learn what happens when ye put yourself in
danger, wee one.” He brought the paddle down
sharply across her buttocks, covering both of them
at the same time and Kat let out a loud shriek and
bucked hard, her bottom tensing with pain.
Kat had had no idea what Frankie went through
when Pierre had landed those swats on her backside
during training, and a new admiration for her sister
crossed her mind fleetingly until the second spank
landed. She tried hard to hold back the howl, but it
came out anyway and went up in pitch as the third
one bit into her tender buttocks.
“Merde!” she yelped, the French curse slipping
out unbidden. Tears filled her eyes, and she began
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to cry and plead with him to have mercy as he
continued to spank her. He landed ten blistering
spanks before he stopped.
“Are ye going to remember to take an escort
when ye go about now, lass?” He rested the paddle
warningly against her throbbing bottom.
“Mon Dieu! Oui! I will, please just stop.” Tears
were streaming down her face.
Morg slowly rubbed the paddle in circles. “It
didn’t seem to make an impression on Rosalie, and
I gave her the same amount of spanks you just had.
Perhaps more is in order, lass, just to make sure?”
“NON! I will remember,” pleaded Kat.
He lifted her up then and cradled her shaking
form in his arms. “All right, lass, we shall see. If you
forget, perhaps the punishment Rosalie’s about to
receive will remind you.”
“I’ll r…remember,” sobbed Kat, burying her face
in his chest.
He picked her up then and set her down in a soft
chair. “Stay there,” he said softly, kissing the top of
her head. Then he walked back to his chair. “All
right, Rosalie, come here, lass.”
Rosalie turned, the tears already streaming
down her face at Kat’s punishment. Shaking, she
approached Morg. “Oh, please, Sir, please. I’m
sorry I forgot. It was a party, we had been drinking,
and I won’t forget again, I promise, Sir.” She wrung
her hands and stepped back and forth from one foot
to the other in her panic.
Morg looked sternly at her. “If ye hadn’t just had
a punishment for it, it wouldn’t be so bad. But it
was the same day, lass!”
“It…it was the excitement of the party and
all…I’m sorry, Sir,” Rosalie cried.
Morg shook his head and pulled her down
across his knee. No point in dragging it out, he
400
decided. Just get it over with. Quickly, he lifted her
skirt again and pinned her legs under his. Taking
both her wrists in his large hand, he bent her well
over his left knee.
Quickly, then, he laid into her reddened bottom
with the paddle, ignoring the howls and wild shrieks
of pain as her bottom bucked and squirmed beneath
the strokes. He landed twenty firm spanks and
stopped, giving her time to recover before he lifted
her up.
“Are ye going to remember for sure now?” he
asked gently as she sobbed wildly over his knee,
her hands flying to her bottom when he released
them.
“Yes, Sirrrrrr,” she wailed pitifully.
“All right, then, your punishment is over.” He
lifted her up and set her on his knee to talk to her.
“I did nae enjoy seeing ye hurt, lass, and I feel
responsible for ye like ye was a younger sister, not
a servant. I’ve grown quite fond of ye, and I want
ye to consider this your home and not just a job. Ye
are not an indentured servant anymore, and I’ll pay
ye to work. Does that suit ye?”
Rosalie stared at him, seeing the kindness
beneath the harsh exterior. “Y…yes, Sir,” she
hiccupped, returning his smile. Her wet brown eyes
shone with gratitude, and shyly, she placed a kiss
on his cheek. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Ye are welcome, lass, now go on with ye.” He
stood up and pointed her towards the door and
waited until she had gone. Then he crossed to Kat
and scooped her up in his arms, fixed her clothes
and then took her place in the chair with her firmly
ensconced on his lap.
Kat was still sniffling when Morg sat down with
her, and she snuggled into his warmth like a small

401
kitten. He wanted to make love to her, but this
wasn’t the time, so he settled for holding her.
“Why did you leave Scotland, Morg?” Kat asked
finally. She had been wondering for a long time
now.
Morg rubbed his fingers between hers
absentmindedly; enjoying the peace and the feeling
of completeness he felt just holding her. “I was
betrayed, lass, by my half brother and my Uncle.
Between the two of them, they tricked me out of
my inheritance as Laird of Castle McKenna.”
“Oh,” Kat replied, her eyes growing big in her
small face. “Have you ever thought of going back?
Getting revenge?”
“Aye, lass, every day.”
Kat’s heart sank. “Then, you will be
leaving…someday?” she asked painfully.
“Aye, someday I will go back and claim my
rightful place. But I will probably have to kill my half
brother to do it. I’ve nae heard from anyone in the
clan for a long time now, and I grow worried. I’m
afraid Canton will destroy them all in the end and
squander all that my father and grandfather worked
to build.”
“When are you going?” Kat’s throat worked
painfully, trying bravely to sound normal. He had
said she would always belong to him, but he was
already planning on leaving her.
“Not for awhile yet, I’ve got work to do here.”
He looked down at her. “What about ye, lass? Have
ye decided that perhaps LaSalle is not such a bad
person after all?”
“My father is dead because of him. I can’t
forgive him that. But at least he wasn’t lying about
my mother. I will do my best to be civil to him
because of Frankie, but that’s the best I can do,”
Kat replied fiercely.
402
 “There are many such stories on the seas, lass.
How would you feel if some lad came after your
blood because his brother was killed when your ship
attacked his vessel? How would that make ye feel?
Ye may not even have known the lad yet ye are
being held responsible for his death?”
“Oui, I do see what you mean,” Kat answered
slowly.
“In war, there are always casualties, and
innocents invariably die, but are ye sure your Father
was innocent then?”
“What do you mean?” Kat asked suspiciously.
“Why did he nae have the guardian galleon
behind the vessel where she belonged? Did his
arrogance perhaps cause the loss of the ship by
leaving her open to acts of war and the like?
Perhaps your father is at least partially to blame for
the loss of lives that occurred that day."
Kat was silent, pondering the things he said.
She had never thought of it that way before, and
perhaps Morg had a point. She sighed heavily. “Oui,
I can see what you mean, Morg, but that in itself
does not leave LaSalle blameless.”
“Perhaps not, but then I guess only the God in
the heavens will have the final judgment. In the
meantime, we do the best we can, eh, lass?”
Kat relaxed against him, getting sleepy.
“Perhaps,” she agreed finally, yawning and
stretching. She snuggled into him and drifted off to
sleep. Morg laid his head back on the chair and
relaxed as well. When Rosalie checked on them,
they were both asleep.
Rosalie went about looking for Alyssa. No one
had seen her since that morning. That was strange;
usually Alyssa was always about. Oh well, she
thought. She will turn up sooner or later; perhaps
she had gone to visit some of her island family.
403
 She was working in the kitchen when she heard
the sound at the door. Cocking her head to the side,
she listened, and then figured she must have
imagined it. Then she heard it again, a faint
scratching noise, then a moaning sound. The hair
on the back of her neck went up, and the kitchen
boy’s eyes went wide. “Get the gun,” she hissed,
pointing to the pantry.
The boy nodded and quickly went inside the
pantry, returning with the pistol. “Keep it pointed at
the door while I get the Governor.” He nodded and
she ran on swift feet to the study. Slipping inside,
she went over to the sleeping couple. Lightly, she
touched Morg on the shoulder. “Sir! Please wake up,
Sir, there may be trouble at the kitchen door.”
Morg was instantly awake, looking up into
Rosalie’s pale face, her dark eyes huge. “What is it,
Rosalie?” He and Kat stood up, and he reached for
his sword and pistol.
“I heard a scratching and moaning sound at the
kitchen door,” she whispered. “I left the kitchen boy
holding a gun on the door while I came to get you.”
“Where is Alyssa?” Morg growled. He quickly left
the study, the girls following him.
“No one has seen her since this morning,”
Rosalie replied.
“You mean she’s not back yet?”
“Back, Sir?”
“Aye, she went to visit her brother, but should
have been back a few hours ago. I don’t like this!”
Coming into the kitchen, he saw the wide-eyed
lad standing there with the pistol still pointed at the
door. “Stay there,” he commanded in a whisper.
“You too, Kat, and be prepared.” Quickly, he left the
room and went out the veranda door off the dining
room, melting into the shadows.

404
 With his pistol drawn, he silently slipped around
the side of the house and then peered around the
corner, looking towards the kitchen door. He swore
when he saw the still figure of Alyssa lying on the
ground. “Open the door,” he shouted and he ran to
her and turned her over. She was breathing, but
there was blood down the front of her, and she
moaned and opened her eyes to look at Morg. He
lifted her up so he could hear her speak.
“My people…attacked by pirates…they are
coming inland…and sending ships to block the
harbor. You’ve got to get some of the ships out
before…” she faded off and closed her eyes, her
body going limp in his arms.
Morg picked her up and brought her into the
kitchen. Quickly, he inspected her wounds. She had
been knifed…twice…once in the shoulder and once
along her ribcage. They must have left her for dead,
and she had come back to warn him. “Take care of
her,” he commanded Rosalie, “I have to get to
Jacques and the others.”
He turned to the kitchen boy. “Into the bell
tower…ring it. Keep ringing it until ye see people
moving.” The boy quickly scurried off.
Morg ran to the stable and brought Aramis out.
Then he leaped on him bareback and gave Kat a
hand up. He began thundering towards the
settlement and the docks as the bell began ringing
behind him.
Jacques was just walking Frankie back from the
beach as the sun was setting. The peaceful beauty
of the evening sunset was interrupted by the harsh
tones of the tower bell ringing through the air. “Mon
Dieu, that is the warning bell!” he exclaimed.
Grabbing Frankie’s hand, he began to run towards
the docks.

405
 Chapter Twenty-Two
“We are under attack!” yelled Frankie. “But who
is attacking us? And where are they?”
Men were running everywhere when they got
back, and the Aphrodite was already pulling out of
the harbor. Frankie ran with Jacque to the Nemesis
just as Frenchy was taking her out of the docking.
“I’ll take over, you get the Rabbit,” yelled
Jacques. Frenchy nodded his agreement and ran for
the ship he was assigned in times of battle. His first
mate was just weighing anchor.
Morg had called a meeting right after the news
of the Arab’s involvement in the treasure. It was
decided when the bell sounded, the Aphrodite, the
Nemesis and the Rabbit would take up guard
beyond the harbor. This would prevent any ships
with long range cannons from taking a stance there
and shelling the ships in dock.
Groups of men were assigned the cannons on
the wall of the harbor and some were pointed
towards the harbor, others pointed inward in case of
attack from behind. It had been a good plan, but
Morg hadn’t expected to have to use it so soon.
Inside the mansion, the stable boys had pulled
the windows shut and boarded them, leaving guards
at each window while Rosalie and the kitchen girl
looked after Alyssa.
Morg met his army of men in the middle of the
docks and held up his hands. “We are soon to be
under attack from the back of the island as well as
from the front. I don’t know how much time we
have or what we are facing if my source is correct,
but I want everyone in place and prepared.”
He went on. “Spread out! Take up positions
beyond the settlement and behind the manor. Be
prepared for attack from the back, the ships out

406
front will be prepared to take on the attack from the
front of the harbor.
If ye do get men from the back, let them come
into the middle, and we’ll sandwich them between
us. Captain Colder, get a platoon dispatch of twenty
sailors and defend the manor. All civilians that do
not wish to fight need to go to the manor
immediately.”
He looked around and saw several wenches from
the pub headed up the hill, as well as some older
visitors to the island and workers from the hotel.
“Captain Montbalm, ye will cover the east beach
with your ship’s cannons. The east bank of cannons
is prepared to back ye up. Captain Adams…the
same for the West Side and the West Bank. Nigor,
ye will watch the middle of the island with the Lady
Queen and try to avoid shelling the manor if ye
please.” The men laughed uneasily at Morg’s
attempt at humor. “I’ll take the Princess and be
prepared to use her where needed.”
“What do you want us to do, Governor,” yelled a
Captain from one of the docked ships that was only
there for provisions.
“Any of ye that wish to leave can go,” returned
Morg swiftly. “Or ye can stay and be prepared to
fight if need be. The choice is yours. We’ll do our
best to protect ye if ye choose not to fight, just stay
out of the way.”
Morg took Kat’s arm and hurried up the plank of
the Princess and they began to wait.
On the Nemesis, Victoria was holding Frankie’s
arm, her face pale as the ship followed Frenchy out
of the harbor. “You should be in the cabin, Mother,”
Frankie told her. “I don’t want you in harm’s way.”
“But what about you, ma petite?” Victoria
protested.

407
 “I can take care of myself, Mother, I’ve been
fighting battles for a couple of years now. Pierre has
trained me well.”
Jacques overheard her comment. “That is true,
Victoria. I had to trick Frankie out of her sword
today, she is an excellent fighter.”
Victoria nodded. “I will stay here until the
fighting begins, then I will go inside.”
“Do you have a pistol, Mother?”
“No child, nor do I know how to use one.”
“Take this one,” Frankie replied, handing it to
her. “If you have to, just cock the hammer, point it
and shoot it by pulling the trigger here. It will give
you one shot anyway to protect yourself if
necessary.”
Victoria hesitantly took the pistol and held it up
to look at it.
“Don’t point it at anyone, Mother,” Frankie said
dryly, “unless you intend to shoot them. It could go
off accidentally.”
“Oh…Oui,” she replied hastily, pointing the pistol
towards the deck.
When everyone was in place, an eerie silence
settled over the settlement. It was as if all were
holding their breath. The bell had stopped ringing,
and the boy stood with his spyglass, searching the
jungle growth in the growing dusk, looking for any
sign of movement.
Frenchy had taken the rabbit and began to scout
around the island, making circling movements down
one side of the island and then back along the other
side. None of the ships had lanterns on, keeping
themselves as dark as possible. When the Rabbit
came racing back from the west, they saw the
lantern flash three times. The signal that ships were
coming…three of them.

408
409
 From the deck of the Lady Princess, Morg saw
the signal through the spyglass. “Here they come,”
he said tersely to Kat. At the same time, men began
to appear in the settlement, hundreds of men. Morg
gave the signal by firing the Lady Princess’s cannon
into the middle of the beach, sending men and sand
flying in the air. Suddenly, the defense came
swarming from the decks of the Lady Queen, the
Spanish frigate, the Diablo and the other frigate,
the Lobo. The guest ships decided to defend from
their ships if necessary, since they didn’t know
which men were Morg’s men and which were the
attacking ones. They all looked like pirates!
Out in the harbor, the three ships had engaged,
but they didn’t have much of a chance. With the
Rabbit zipping around them and placing small well
spaced shots and the longer-range cannons of the
Aphrodite and the Nemesis, they were unprepared
for the ferocity of the defense. When the pirate flag
of the Nemesis went up, they turned tail and ran.
“See what effect my reputation has,” chuckled
Jacques amused at the ships leaving. “They run like
they have seen a ghost.”
Frankie did think it was amusing. She smiled at
him, and they turned their attention to the
settlement and settled down to wait. They would
guard the harbor to make sure the ships did not
return.
Inside the cabin, Victoria was once again caught
up in the battle. Only this battle was not in the
present.
They were being attacked. She was
remembering when the Nemesis attacked the vessel
she and Gatineu were on. “Non!” she screamed, her
shrill cry cutting the air. Gatineu, blood all over
him…where is Frankie?

410
411
 Outside the cabin, Frankie heard her mother
scream, and she went racing to the cabin, Jacques
right behind her.
Victoria’s face was ashen and her hands shaking
when Frankie walked in. “Frankie,” she whispered
hoarsely, “you are safe!”
Frankie took her mother’s cold hands and
rubbed them between her own. “Of course, I’m all
right, Mother, the battle is over. It was not much of
a battle.”
“And Gatineu?”
It was then that Frankie realized her mother was
not in the present. “Come, Mother, sit down and
rest,” she coaxed gently. She led her mother to a
chair and sat her down, holding her hands in her
own as she sat beside her.
“It’s over, Mother, relax,” she crooned
comfortingly. They sat like that for several minutes.
Victoria finally lay her head back against the chair
cushion and closed her eyes. Her fingers still had a
strong grip on Frankie’s hands.
Jacques watched them, realizing too that the
battle must have triggered memories for Victoria.
Once again, he felt regret that he had let his need
for revenge hurt innocent people, but what was
done was done. He could not go back now.
The battle on the shore did not last long, either.
Without the advantage of surprise, the Arab’s men
were quickly subdued and taken prisoner. Morg
didn’t even have to leave the Lady Princess. Nigor
finally drug a dark skinned man before him and
pushed him down on the deck to his knees.
“Who sent ye here?” Morg growled.
The man stared stonily at him, refusing to
answer.
Kat watched curiously, staying out of it.

412
 “I asked ye a question,” Morg said dangerously.
He laid his sword against the swarthy neck. “Answer
the question, or I’ll find someone who will.”
When Morg drew his sword back the man hastily
snarled. “It was Sheik Rasheed. He found out you
murdered Pedro and stole his treasure. He sent us
to get it back.”
“And what happens if you return without it?”
Morg asked silkily.
“If we do not achieve our goal, we don’t dare
return.”
“The treasure is gone. Split up, dispersed, never
to be gathered together again. And Pedro was a
traitor to Sheik Rasheed. He was plotting against
him on behalf of Spain.” Morg thought for a
moment, considering the man’s words. His decision
made, he spoke to the man again.
“I’ll tell ye what I will do. I will send what little
treasure I confiscated from Pedro back to the Sheik
as a gesture of good faith. And I will release any
prisoners my men have taken. But hear me well; if
he comes against me again, I will see that each
man captured is shot. I will take nae prisoners nor
give nae quarter, is that understood?” Morg’s green
eyes gleamed wickedly, and the Arab nodded.
“And I’ll expect a visit in return with a gesture of
good faith from him that he understands me, and
we can call upon one another for help if need be.
Can ye deliver the message?”
With instructions for Nigor to guard the man,
Morg went below and picked up the small chest of
jewels and gold coins that had been part of his split.
He handed it to the Arab, whose eyes lit up with
greed. “I’ll be checking to see that Sheik Rasheed
received my gift,” Morg said evenly. “What is your
name?
“Ahmed,” replied the man.
413
 “Well, Ahmed, Nigor will escort you and your
men back to the ships at the back of the island.
Twenty of your men will remain in my jail as
insurance. If ye do not return to collect them with a
gift of good faith from the Sheik, they will be
executed within 60 days. Do ye understand?”
The man nodded, his eyes gleaming and
guarded, and with what Kat interpreted as a
glimmer of respect.
Morg pulled Nigor aside and talked to him for a
few minutes. “Make sure ye get twenty men ye feel
they will want back and lock them in the jail. Then
escort the remaining group back across the island to
their ships. Check on the status of the villagers and
see if they need anything as well.”
Nigor nodded and set off to do as the Governor
requested.
“Why did you do that?” Kat asked curiously.
“Because if delivered, it will insure the Sheik’s
favor. He was only planning to rob Spain, just as we
were. Since they were never his jewels to begin
with, to get any part of the treasure is a salve to his
ego. And if he believes Pedro was double-crossing
him and was killed for the traitor he was, he would
be happy to keep us on his list of prospective allies,
especially since he was so soundly defeated. It will
also mean we don’t have to keep looking over our
shoulder all the time for an attack from him.” His
white teeth gleamed in a smile.
“Oui, I see…an excellent tactician I must say,”
she mocked lightly.
“Come, little hellcat, let’s go view the damages
and see how Alyssa is.” He slapped her sore bottom
and she yelped, and then glared at him.
“I’ll thank you to keep your hands to yourself,
Monsieur,” she said tightly, refusing to rub her
bottom in front of the men.
414
 Morg just laughed and held out his arm to escort
her.
The battle had been a complete victory, and the
cleanup was minimal. The ships were headed in and
the men began to celebrate. Morg insisted they
celebrate in shifts and keep a sharp eye out lest the
Sheik’s men should decide to return and try again.
Alyssa’s wounds were not fatal and the doctor
assured Morg she would be fine. Nigor seemed
awfully relieved, and Morg couldn’t help giving him
a wolfish grin. He was delighted to see Nigor blush
for the first time since he had known him. “So that’s
how it is, eh, Nigor?”
Nigor, flushed, but he nodded slightly. Then he
sat by Alyssa’s bed, his strong arms folded as if he
meant to take up residence there.
Kat and Morg went back to the docks to find
Jacques and Frankie. Jacques had prisoners to sort
out. The ship captains had agreed to take shifts
patrolling the harbor frontage beyond the reef to
make sure no one tried to sneak back up on them
Frankie was standing at the railing of the
Nemesis when Morg and Kat arrived at the docks,
and the ship was just tying off.
She motioned them aboard, and they came up
behind Frenchy who was suddenly in a big hurry to
get back to Victoria now that the Rabbit was
docked.
“What is wrong, Frankie?” Kat asked, noted the
pallor of Frankie’s cheeks.
“Mother has regained her memory, Kat, she
wants to see all of us. I’ve sent word to Pierre, he
should be here soon.”
“How did that happen?” Kat was puzzled.
“It was the battle. I guess the sound of the
cannons, the battle cries and guns going on around
her, it must have triggered that day in her mind."
415
 “This is a good thing!” exclaimed Kat.
“Yes and no…the good news is that she does
remember everything. The bad news is…The
Duchess of Fontaine has returned with a vengeance.
She wants to know why we aren’t married to Morg
and Jacques!”
“Uh oh,” groaned Kat, “protocol?”
“Oui, protocol,” echoed Frankie glumly.
“Protocol?” Morg queried, looking puzzled.
“You don’t know my mother, Monsieur,” groaned
Frankie in tune with Kat’s groans. “To her, protocol,
the right thing to do at the right time, is the rules
one lives by.”
“How does she explain being married to Frenchy
then?” Kat asked sarcastically.
“I haven’t hit her with that one yet,” Frankie
responded dryly. “And I don’t think she has thought
of it…at least in application to her anyway.”
Kat shrugged. “Well, at least her memory has
returned, that is important for other things. Now
she can decide if she wishes to return home with
us.”
Morg’s stomach leaped at Kat’s words. Return
home? What did she mean return home? She wasn’t
going anywhere that was away from him! He
followed the girls into the cabin where Frenchy,
Victoria and Jacques were already present.
“Kat darling!” exclaimed Victoria softy as her
eyes lit on her other daughter. She stood up to
greet her, laying her soft cheek against Kat’s in the
typical greeting and mock kiss of aristocracy.
“Mother, its good to have you back. Frankie tells
me you have regained all your memory.” Kat smiled
benignly at her mother.
A knock sounded on the door. Morg opened it to
admit Pierre.

416
 “Bonjour, Victoria, I heard the news,
congratulations.” Pierre strode over to Victoria who
again placed the perfunctory kiss on her brother in
law’s cheek.
“Oui, I have, Pierre. It’s so nice to remember
you. You have been wonderful to care for the girls
all this time. I can’t thank you enough.”
“It was my pleasure.” He looked at her and then
at Frenchy. “You do need to come back to Louisiana
now that you remember, and sign some papers.
Gatineu left everything to you. There are other
matters of estate that need to be straightened out
that have been left on hold as well. As you know,
Gatineu left me as executor if anything should
happen to you and him together, which gave me
control of the girls’ estate. But, without proof that
you were gone, they were unable to clear some
things up on your behalf.”
He didn’t put it into words, but they all knew
that no one had wanted to have Victoria declared
legally dead until they had proof. Instead, Frankie
and Kat had set out to determine if she were still
alive.
“All those things can be easily handled, Pierre,
but what I am most concerned about, is my
daughters.” She looked first at Jacques, then at
Morg. “You two men have been cavorting with my
daughters in many unchaperoned situations. This is
unacceptable. I’m afraid you leave me no choice but
to insist that you now marry them. I cannot allow
you to sully their reputations, as they are of noble
blood.” She spoke softly, but there was a thread of
steel running through her voice. “For all I know,
they may be with child as we speak. I’m afraid I
must insist that a minister of God be brought
forward to marry you immediately.”

417
 She looked reproachfully at Pierre. “I cannot
think how you let this happen, Pierre. I am
disappointed that you have not taken steps to
rectify this situation before this.”
Kat spoke first. “Mother, I am not willing to
marry just to satisfy protocol!” Her voice was
scornful. “When I marry, I want it to be for love, not
because it’s expected!”
“I’m afraid I have to agree, Mother, this is a
long way from the French Court. Protocol is not
practiced much here,” Franked added helpfully.
Victoria stood up and raised herself to her full
5’5”. Her eyes flashed. “This may not be the French
court, Mademoiselles, but God’s laws are still in
effect wherever you go! I shall not have my
daughters playing fast and loose with men. You
chose to bed them, now you shall marry them!
“What makes you think common pirates would
want to marry us, Mother,” stormed Kat, her green
eyes getting angry.
“They may be pirates, but they are not common,
and we all know it,” replied Victoria frostily. She
turned to Jacques and Morg. “You young men have
chosen to bed my daughters knowing full well their
stations in life. Nobility and gentry are always
obvious. Now I insist you be the gentlemen you
really are and face the consequences of your
actions.” Victoria the Duchess did not believe in
mincing words.
“Thank you, Mother, I love being referred to as
a punishment,” Kat responded acidly.
“Ye will nae back talk your Mother, lass,” Morg
said mildly. “I’m afraid I must agree with her, I’m
more than willing to own up to my actions. I will
marry the wee lass.” He bowed slightly to Victoria,
and she dipped her head to acknowledge his words.

418
419
 Victoria then turned to Jacques. “And you,
Monsieur?”
“Mother!” exclaimed Frankie flushing. “I do NOT
want to marry Jacques!”
“Nevertheless, we shall be married, ma petite,”
Jacques answered, his dark eyes placidly watching
her. “I too, shall live up to my obligations.”
“No, Mother, I won’t be any man’s obligation,”
Frankie ground out, her eyes turning a deep blue
green.
“Do not tell your Mother no, ma petite, or I shall
have to remedy your manners,” Jacques said
laconically.
“Then, it is settled,” said Victoria, satisfied with
Jacques and Morg’s decision. “I shall await the
Priest, then make the decisions about going home
for awhile.” She turned to Frenchy. “Come, Frenchy,
I am tired. Please take me to our cabin so I can
rest.”
“Of course, ma cherie,” replied Frenchy, his
brown eyes twinkling at the four young people.
“I will talk to you tomorrow, my daughters, we
will have a nice long visit.” She smiled tiredly at
them, ignoring the scowls on their faces and bid
them goodnight. She smiled and nodded at Pierre
and allowed Frenchy to lead her out.
“Uncle Pierre, you have to talk to her!” blurted
Kat. She looked ready to bite nails, and Frankie
didn’t look any happier.
“Why?” Pierre asked mildly. “I quite agree with
her.” He bowed slightly and left the cabin.
The girls looked at each other and then looked
at their respective men. “I am NOT marrying you,”
they both blurted out.
The men merely smiled and looked at each
other. They folded their arms across their chests
and looked at their respective wives to be.
420
 “Aye, lass, ye will!”
“Oui, ma cherie, you will!”
Kat stormed out of the cabin, Frankie right
behind her. They were headed down the plank when
Frankie stopped. “Wait!” she muttered, her hand
going to her sore buttocks.
“Oui, I forgot,” replied Kat, wincing. “We have to
have an escort.” Seeing the paddle in her mind’s
eye, she looked around for the nearest man.
“There is Pierre up ahead, let’s just catch up
with him,” hissed Frankie, and she took off running,
Kat right behind her.
“Wait, Uncle Pierre!” they shouted.
Pierre turned and waited for them to catch up,
and then he put his arm through both of the girls’
arms to escort them back to the ship, a big smile on
his face.
Behind them, standing in the door of the cabin,
Morg and Jacques chuckled. “They do learn don’t
they?” Jacques said in satisfaction.
“Aye, that they do,” agree Morg, his green eyes
twinkling.
The next day, the girls were seated in their
cabin with Victoria having tea and talking.
“Mother, how can you really expect us to get
married?” fumed Frankie.
“Oui, Mother, besides, we know that you and
Frenchy had an affair behind Father’s back. Don’t
deny it, Mother, Frenchy already told us. In fact, he
thinks Frankie might be his daughter.”
Victoria sat her teacup down and faced the two
disgruntled faces in front of her. She sighed and
spoke. “Oui, I met Frenchy in Paris, and we did fall
in love.”
She paused for a moment and then spoke again.
“I never loved Gatineu Fontaine, it was a marriage
of convenience insisted on by both sets of parents.
421
A business transaction, if you will. He did not love
me, either, but we both were duty bound to live up
to what was expected of us. ‘You will grow to love
him,’ my mother said, but I never did.”
She took another sip of tea. “I fell in love with
Frenchy almost immediately, and then I got
pregnant and Gatineu accused me of having a lover.
He was correct, of course, and though I would not
confirm it, he spirited me away from Paris. After
you girls were born, I went back to Paris to find
Frenchy, but he was gone. I never saw him again,
until he found me on that ship.”
Her hands shook with the force of her emotions
then. “You must understand that Gatineu was a
good man, he never harmed me, and he truly loved
you girls.
But the idea that I had taken a lover festered
within him and continued to eat away at him, like a
poison that slowly changed him.
We were fighting on that ship from France; he
was threatening to disinherit me from his will. He
was…ill. The doctors did not know how to treat him
and nothing seemed to help.
He had terrible headaches, and they were
getting worse. They would give him laudanum to
ease the pain of the worst ones, but they felt it was
only a matter of time until they were so bad they
would kill him. He had already lost a lot of weight,
as you may well remember and could ill afford to
lose more.”
Frankie and Kat looked at each other. They
knew their father had suffered from headaches and
remembered him losing weight, but they hadn’t
known how serious it was!
Victoria continued, her face pale. “My own father
held not much more than a title. He had a problem
with gambling, which was draining the family
422
resources desperately. He was hoping to get
Gatineu’s help, but Gatineu had become so
obsessed with the idea of my lover that he was
refusing to help him.”
She looked at Kat and Frankie; her eye’s
growing large. “He was threatening to disinherit me
from his will and denounce Frankie as a bastard. I
do not think he would have, for he loved you both,
but with the pain driving him crazy and his jealousy
eating at him, he was becoming a different man. I
feared for the future, and for Frankie.”
She put her hand over both of the girls’, her
eyes suspiciously bright. “He sent the guardian
galleon on ahead, thinking we might be attacked
from the front for some reason known only to him.
Even Pierre tried to talk to him, but he would not
see reason.
When the Nemesis attacked, I’m afraid my state
of mind was not good already. Combined with the
shocks I had received from Gatineu and the shock
of the attack, I lost my memory.”
“Mon Dieu,” whispered Kat fiercely. “This is so
hard to believe, Mother! I cannot think that Father
would do that to Frankie, she is my twin!”
“I know darling,” Victoria replied sadly. “But you
have to remember that Gatineu was not himself.
The headaches were driving him insane. The fact
that Frankie looked nothing like him also
aggravated him. Not once did I ever acknowledge I
had met Frenchy, but he knew…somehow he knew.”
“Mother, do you believe Frenchy is my father?”
Frankie asked painfully.
“I honestly cannot say, darling,” replied her
mother tenderly. “Whether you do or not, as far as I
am concerned, you legally belong to Gatineu, and
you always have. If you and Frenchy wish to pursue
a relationship, that is up to you.”
423
 They looked up as a knock sounded on the door.
Pierre opened it and stuck his head inside. “Guess
what? A British ship arrived in port a few hours ago,
and there is a Catholic Father on board. He is
prepared to perform a double wedding just as soon
as the couples are ready!”

424
 Chapter Twenty-Three

Morg stood in front of the mirror, critically

surveying the image that looked back at him. He cut
a pretty fine figure if he did say so himself.
The traditional Scottish formal dress with the
kilt, left his legs bare underneath the tartan plaid,
but some say it made sealing the wedding nuptials
quicker and easier, if a man were so inclined. Across
the sash was the clan emblem, an arm with a knife
held straight and high, indicative of his fierce
Scottish ancestors. His belt had the same emblem
emblazoned in fine pewter with “Fortiter”, across
the top, meaning boldly. Aye, it was a good
description.
In a few hours, he would be marrying the red
headed chit he had claimed for his own. Frowning,
he recalled their conversation from the previous
evening.
The two couples had taken dinner together at
the mansion, and then Morg had taken Kat into his
study, while Frankie and Jacques had gone into the
library to talk.
“I am NOT marrying you, Morg,” Kat had
insisted, when he spoke of the wedding
arrangements made for today. His mind mulled over
their conversation.
“We are getting married, lass, make nae
mistake about that. Your mother is right, I won’t
take the chance of a child of mine being born a
bastard.” He looked down grimly at the defiant
sprite.
“And just what makes you think you don’t have
bastards all over the Caribbean,” Kat replied nastily.
“After all, you are a pirate, Monsieur, surely you
have hurt your share of women?” She didn’t really

425
believe it, but she felt pressured, and she
responded badly.
Morg’s eyes narrowed. “I have nae hurt a
woman, lass. The women who come to me willingly
are women who know how to prevent such things,
and have no desire for a child.” He wasn’t about to
tell her the women had been few and far between.
He didn’t believe in forcing an unwilling woman,
there were too many available and willing. “Ye had
best watch your tongue, or ye’ll be over my knee
before this night is out.”
“So you say,” Kat replied sulkily. She looked up
at him, angry that he had never once mentioned the
word love. She didn’t want to love this pirate, but
she knew she did. It also grated on her nerves that
she was once again being forced to do something
she didn’t want to. She just plain hated being forced
into anything. She felt like screaming in frustration
at the card life had dealt her.
“I say it because it is true!” He lifted her chin in
his big palm. “Don’t fight so, lass, ye are mine, just
accept it. It may be a little sooner that we might
have liked to marry, but we’ll get along and muddle
through it.”
“If that’s your idea of a proposal, I’m not
impressed,” Kat said acidly. She was disappointed
that it seemed the best he could come up with.
Maybe he didn’t want to marry her and felt forced
into it. She didn’t want him on those terms. “I don’t
need a man who has to be forced in front of the
Priest!”
Morg couldn’t bring himself to admit he loved
her, although he suspected it might be true. She
was his…that should be good enough. Love made
men weak, gave women ideas…ideas that they
could take over and be the leader in the marriage.
No woman was going to rule over Morg Macalister,
426
not while he could still put her across his knee and
teach her who was boss!
“No one is forcing me in front of the Priest,”
Morg growled. “Ye are mine, little lass, and the
sooner ye admit it, the better off ye will be. I’m
just… ‘Claiming my property,’…so to speak.” He
smiled ingratiatingly at her then, and Kat wanted to
hit him. He bent his head and kissed the soft pink
lips, then groaned as his body responded. “Ye are
so perfect, lass, so beautiful. Say ye will marry me
and stop fighting me.”
Kat melted at his words. What woman who
really wanted to say yes wouldn’t? It was hard to
think when his hands were doing things to her body
that were driving her wild. She loved him, didn’t
she? Perhaps he would come to love her in
return…at least he didn’t want to lose her. Maybe it
would be enough. “Oui,” she sighed against his firm
mouth. “I’ll marry you.”
Morg smiled in satisfaction and took her lips
again. Coherent thought went out of Kat’s mind.
______________

In the library, Jacques wasn’t faring much

better. “Mon Dieu, but you are a stubborn woman,
Francesca Fontaine! I’ve half a mind to put you over
my knee and spank some sense into that beautiful
head of yours!” He glared at Frankie.
“Non, it is you who are stubborn, Jacques. I
don’t want to get married right now! How can you
just fall in with my Mother’s wishes like this?” She
put her hands on her hips and glared back at him.
“Because she is right, that’s why,” he replied.
“We have an obligation to get married. You could be
with child.” He ran his palm lovingly over her flat
stomach. “I want my children to have a father, so
we will be married…tomorrow!”
427
 “You can’t make me marry you,” seethed
Frankie. In her heart, Frankie was confused. She
had deep feelings for Jacques, but she didn’t know if
she was in love with him. On the other hand, she
could be with child, and the idea of having a child
out of wedlock was indeed very scary. She didn’t
think she would take well to convent life, and that’s
what she would have to do if she didn’t have a
father for her child.
“Yes, you will, ma cherie. I will not allow you to
go to a convent. You might be pregnant even as we
speak, and I don’t want to lose you. If you are sent
away, I might never find you again, and this I
cannot bear.”
Frankie sighed and her eyes filled with tears.
“But, Jacques…I’m not sure I’m ready to be
married.” She skirted around the real issue. She
wanted him to love her. She was pretty sure she
could love him, if she didn’t already…but she
wanted to hear the words.
“Perhaps not, ma amie,” he said tenderly, taking
her in his arms. “But I…need you. Please say you
will marry me.” He kissed her sweetly on the lips,
coaxing, pleading. He could not bring himself to say
he loved her, not until he knew she loved him. But
perhaps need would be enough.
“I need you so much, Frankie,” he breathed
against her mouth. “Say yes.” He didn’t want to
drag her to the altar, but he would if he had too.
There wouldn’t be one hand raised against their
marriage on the entire island, not even the Priest.
Frankie really had no choice, but he wanted her to
say yes just the same.
“All right, Jacques,” whispered Frankie finally,
feeling sad and defeated. Was she destined to be
like her mother? Married without love? It appeared
that way.
428
 “Don’t look so sad, ma amie,” Jacques said
throatily. “We will be good together.” He pulled her
to him then, his hand roaming down her back and
cupping her buttocks.
Crushed to his chest, Frankie felt desire hot and
strong, and she gave herself up to the cravings in
her traitorous body. Maybe they didn’t love each
other, but they sure did desire each other…maybe it
would be enough. It was more than her mother had
started with.
______________

Morg looked at the other image in the mirror,

his friend Jacques was appraising his own clothing.
“Are ye ready, Jacques?” he asked, his green eyes
gleaming in anticipation of the coming nuptials.
“Oui, Morg, I am ready,” he replied easily,
grinning at the other man. He had finally gotten
used to the sight of Morg in the red tartan skirt. Kilt
as he had been corrected. “I just hope Frankie does
not run out on me at the last moment.”
“Aye, it would be just what those two wenches
would do. I took precautions and put a guard on the
mansion just in case. They won’t get far if they do,
and if they try it, they’ll be getting married with
sore arses.”
“Are you planning on going back to Scotland
anytime soon?” Jacques asked curiously, passing
time until it was time for the wedding to take place.
It was going to be held in the garden of the manor,
and people were already there. Food had been set
up on tables, and Rosalie and Alyssa had hastily
prepared a wedding cake. It was also the twins’
birthday; they were officially 21 years old today. It
was a day for much celebration!
The men had talked extensively of their
backgrounds by this time. Each knew the other had
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been betrayed, and a deep friendship was
developing between them.
“Not right away,” Morg replied. “I’ve sent word
to Eileen for news. I had it delivered by special
messenger since I’ve nae heard anything from her
in months. I suspect Canton is keeping her from
receiving any of my letters or sending any out. I
made arrangements for a courier to get to her
another way. I hope to hear something soon.”
He went to the liquor cabinet and poured him
and Jacques a shot of rum. “What about you?
Anything new on the horizon, lad?”
“Oui, I have made some new contacts, and they
are doing some checking for me. One day, I’ll get to
the bottom of the matter, but for now, the Pirates
Hideaway is going to be home for me.”
“Aye, I’ll drink to that,” Morg replied, holding up
his glass in a toast.
“Oui, to our business, our home and our brides
to be,” Jacques added with a chuckle.
They were just sipping their toast when they
heard a commotion out in the dining room. Loud
angry voices…a crashing sound…and then the
familiar sound of a woman getting a spanking.
Morg set his glass down and opened the door.
He rushed out with Jacques right behind him and
came to a sudden stop as he came into the dining
room.
Upstairs, Frankie and Kat were standing in front
of the mirrors in a bedroom while Rosalie and
Victoria worked with their hair. They had had no
time to make gowns for the occasion, and the men
had requested they wear the coming out gowns
they had worn the first day Victoria was on the
island.
“That’s fine, Mother, it’s not like Morg hasn’t
already seen this dress, anyway. What’s the point of
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going to so much extra trouble?" Kat was a bit
grumpy.
“Stop being so grumpy, darling,” Victoria
admonished her, slapping her hand away from the
hair comb.
Frankie was also a bit grumpy, but Rosalie was
excited enough for both of them. “You girls are so
beautiful! I wish I had something this lovely to
wear.” She looked wistfully at the gowns, touching
the lace on Frankie’s.
Frankie smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Rosalie, you
would find this dress far too hot for this climate. I
can’t wait to get a wardrobe of island clothing. It’s
much cooler!”
“Here are your flowers,” Rosalie replied, showing
the girls the lovely island bouquets she had made
up of pink and lavender orchids, as well as some
beautiful white lilies.
They were all admiring the flowers when the
sound of shrieking and a crash came from
downstairs. They looked at one another and then
scrambled for the door.
Running out onto the veranda overlooking the
dining room, they saw Nigor seated in a chair with
Alyssa over his long hard thighs. He was spanking
the daylights out of the seat of her island skirt with
long hard strokes. Alyssa of course, was cursing and
screeching while trying to get away from him.
They saw Morg and Jacques just rushing into the
room, and Kat’s mouth fell open when she saw
Morg. “Mon Dieu! He is wearing a skirt!”
“You do NOT throw things at me, woman,”
growled Nigor as he continued to paddle Alyssa
despite the audience they were gaining.
Across the room, a young kitchen girl was trying
to sweep up broken glass.

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 “I will NOT marry you,” shrieked Alyssa,
thoroughly enraged. She fought desperately to
escape Nigor’s tight hold, but it was useless. He had
her firmly pinned. “I don’t care how much you
spank me, I will NOT marry you, today!” Her voice
was sounding a little tearful at this point.
Even Kat and Frankie winced at the sight of
Nigor’s powerful arm as thick their waistlines
pounding Alyssa’s bouncing buttocks through the
flowered cotton.
Nigor stopped and pulled up her upright. “The
spanking was for throwing that glass and breaking
it,” snapped Nigor. “And if you don’t start being
reasonable, I’ll spank you some more!”
Alyssa glared at him, her black eyes shining with
tears she refused to shed as she rubbed her
painfully burning bottom.
“Do you need some help, Nigor?” offered Morg
solicitously.
The girls were coming down the stairs. “That is
not a skirt, Kat,” hissed Victoria, trying to shush her
daughter.
“No, Sir, I just wanted Alyssa to take advantage
of the fact there is a Priest here who can marry us,
and we don’t know when another one can be found,
but she is very stubborn and says she is not ready
yet.” He gave Alyssa an impatient glare.
“And I’m trying to explain to this unreasonable
man, that I have to be married within my tribe first,
or my clan won’t acknowledge our union!” She
glared back at him.
“That’s just an excuse; I’ve talked to the Chief,”
declared Nigor. “Do you want to go back over my
knee for lying now?”
“Well, he did say he would rather I got married
in the clan first,” Alyssa declared, looking away
from him with trembling lips.
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 “That’s probably true, however, he will always
be available, and a Catholic Priest isn’t!”
“If it helps any, I will soon have the ability to
perform weddings as part of my Governor’s duties,
Nigor,” Morg responded swiftly. “So you could get
married anytime you chose.”
“See, there is always a solution if you look for
it,” Alyssa said acidly.
“Woman!” growled Nigor warningly, taking her
arm and leading her away. Over his shoulder he
said, “Thank you, Sir, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Morg was chuckling when he heard a familiar
voice sounding a bit too strident for his tastes.
“I’m not marrying a man in a skirt, Mother, I
don’t care what you say!”
He turned towards the stairs to see Kat coming
down them, her eyes raking up and down his figure.
Jacques snickered behind his hand, and Morg sent
him a glowering look.
“This is not a skirt, lass,” boomed Morg, “it’s a
traditional Scottish kilt, and in the red colors of the
Macalister clan. All the men in Scotland wear them,
especially for weddings.”
Frankie looked sympathetically at Kat. She
wouldn’t want to marry a man in a skirt, either.
“We are not IN Scotland,” Kat pointed out
acidly. “So put on some pants!”
“I’ll nae change clothes, lass, I’m already
dressed for the wedding, and it’s about due to start.
It’s too late to change now, even if I wanted too.”
He walked over to Kat and looked down into her
tempestuous face. “It does have its advantages ye
know,” he whispered into her ear.
Kat’s eyes grew wide, and her mouth opened in
shocked disbelief. “You are joking, aren’t you,
Monsieur?”

435
 Morg took her arm and marched into his study
where he closed the door. Taking her hand he ran it
up under his kilt. He grinned when she gasped.
“Mon Dieu, so it is true!”
Kat grinned wickedly and ran her hand slowly
down and back up his bare thigh until she came to
the hardening shaft beginning to pulse in her hand.
“Stop that, lass,” hissed Morg pulling her hand
away.
Kat laughed when his hard shaft kept the kilt
sticking out slightly. “I think you had better change
into pants or everyone is going to know you
are…um…randy,” she teased.
“There is one way to cure that, wee one,” he
grinned back. Spinning her around he lifted her
heavy skirts and parted the chemise. He ran his
fingers down the valley between her bare buttocks
and on down between her thighs while she gasped
and protested. Her protests didn’t fool him because
he could feet the moisture gathering already.
Quickly, he sent his shaft into her moist opening,
feeling it slide easily, and he groaned with pleasure.
“No! Not here, Morg…you’ll crush my
dress…ohhhhhh!” Kat moaned and forgot about the
dress as he drove into her quickly. Kat’s hands were
up against the wall, and she tried hard not to be too
vocal, biting her fist to keep from crying out.
There was a sharp knock on the door, and Morg
held it shut with his palm as he finished. “We’ll be
right there,” he called, ending with a gasp of delight
as he took his little sprite over the edge with him.
Panting, he stood her up and held her close for a
few minutes until they both calmed down. Then
looking down, he grinned boyishly and said, “See,
all taken care of.”

436
 Kat looked down at the now flat kilt and shook
her head, trying to keep from laughing.
“Shhh…people will be scandalized,” she whispered.
______________

“You look beautiful, ma petite,” Jacques

whispered into Frankie’s ear after Kat and Morg
disappeared. “Shall we find a room as well?” He
grinned wickedly at her.
“You don’t think…surely not,” protested Frankie,
looking at the door her sister had disappeared into.
Clearing his throat he spoke loudly. “We need to
settle this once and for all, ma cherie!” He took her
arm and began marching her towards the library.
When they had entered the room and shut the door,
he spun her around and crushed her to his chest,
taking her lips hungrily.
“Jacques!” Frankie gasped when he finally
released her. “What are you doing?”
He was quickly unbuckling his breeches and
lowering his pants. He reached down and lifted
Frankie’s skirts and slipped his hand between her
thighs searching for the opening of the chemise.
Finding it, he bent and kissed her again as he gently
rubbed the small bud beneath his fingers.
“Ohhh…Jacques,” breathed Frankie, spreading
her thighs and putting her arms around his neck.
Quickly, Jacques backed up a few feet to a chair
and sat down, and then leaning back slightly, he
turned Frankie around and lowered her gently onto
his rock hard shaft.
Frankie helped him as she held her dress and
allowed him to slide into her silken sheath.
She felt totally decadent and wanton as the
sounds of people gathering for the wedding filtered
through the drawn curtains in the library.

437
 Gasping, she rode him then, his hardness filling
her almost painfully until she adjusted to his girth.
“This is so…so…wonderfulllllll,” she moaned,
delighting in the fact that it was so forbidden that it
was even more exciting.
“You are the one who is wonderful,” panted
Jacques, groaning himself from the sheer pleasure
of being inside her. He didn’t think it could ever be
the same with any other woman, and Jacques was
hooked…for life. He wasn’t about to let her get away
from him.
He was just fixing his breeches when the knock
sounded on the door. “Coming,” he called, grinning
at Frankie. Holding out his arm to her he said,
“Shall we go get married, ma amie?”
“Well,” Victoria said indignantly. “This is highly
unusual…not normal protocol at all!”
“What’s not normal, Victoria?” asked Pierre,
coming into the room and looking around.
“The groom is not supposed to see the bride
before the wedding. And now Morg and Kat have
gone into the study, and Jacques and Frankie have
gone into the library! This is most unusual!”
“Were they arguing?” Pierre asked worriedly.
“They aren’t getting spanked are they?”
“Non, I don’t think so, although Kat was
declaring she would not marry a man in a skirt, and
Jacques said something about settling something.
Oh, I don’t know…. I’m confused!”
Pierre cocked his head to listen. “Well, I don’t
hear the sounds of spanking coming from
anywhere,” he chuckled. “At least, that is one good
sign.”
“Maybe they just wanted to talk,” Rosalie added
helpfully.
Pierre suspected it was more than that, but
wisely he didn’t let on. “We’ll give them 15 minutes
438
then knock on the door. I came to tell you that the
Priest is here, and the garden in filling up with
guests. It’s almost time for the wedding to begin.”
Outside in the garden, the guests were indeed
waiting for the wedding to begin. It was a ragtag
mixture to say the least, mostly pirates. There were
some guests from the various ships in dock, some
friends, some just curious. The various ship captains
of Morg’s little pirate group screened them in
advance, and all weapons were left at the garden
gate.
No one was allowed in the manor except family
and guests of the wedding party. The servants at
the manor had taken the time to create a path of
orchid petals for the girls to walk on and a small
dias had been constructed for the Priest to stand
on.
Morg and Jacques came in and stood at the
front, waiting for Pierre to escort the girls in.
The food tables were off to the side and laden
with meats and breads and plenty of rum was
available.
A bottle of wine had been kept cold in the small
stream behind the mansion, and it was waiting for
the couples to share after the ceremony.
Finally, Victoria came and walked down to the
front to wait, and soon after, Pierre escorted Kat
and Frankie to the front, handing them over to their
respective partners.
“Does anyone have just cause for these couples
not to be wed?” Father Harrigan asked loudly, and
then waited for a response. When none was
forthcoming, he went on. “I now pronounce you
man and wife. What heaven hath joined let no man
cut asunder.”

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440
 Kat and Frankie looked at each other. They were
married now, for better or for worse, just as the
Priest had said.
The cannons around the harbor each sent a
salute to the middle of the bay and people came up
to congratulate the happy couples.
Morg and Jacques looked at each other and
grinned. “Shall we?” Morg asked.
“By all means…we shall!” Jacques answered.
The men took an empty chair each and before
Kat or Frankie understood what was happening,
they found themselves bottoms up over the laps of
their newly acquired husbands.
“What are you doing?” shrieked Kat. She tried to
push herself up holding onto Morg’s leg, her face
red with embarrassment.
“Oui…Jacques! What is the meaning of this,”
Frankie yelped as her hands came down to support
her on the ground.
“We decided we needed to have a ceremonial
spanking,” Morg answered wickedly.
“Just to set the tone of the marriage, ma petite,”
added Jacques helpfully.
The crowd gathered curiously around, many of
them laughing and pointing, others simply curious.
“I’m going to kill you,” Kat vowed, “I’m going to
slice you into tiny ribbons!” Her feet kicked
furiously.
“I will never forgive you for this, Jacques,”
Frankie added fervently, her face flushing with
embarrassment. She tried to put her hand back, but
Jacques quickly pinned it to the small of her back.
“A ceremonial spanking,” boomed Pierre
grinning delightedly. “What a wonderful idea, and I
can’t think of two girls who deserve such an honor
more than my nieces.” He clapped his hands and

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bowed to Jacques and Morg. “Carry on, Monsieur’s,
I’ve been waiting for five years for this moment!”
“Pierre!” gasped Victoria, thoroughly
scandalized. “This is highly unusual, not normal
protocol, not normal at all!”
“I don’t think they are worried about protocol,
ma amie,” chuckled Frenchy, watching the couples.
The men did indeed proceed as Pierre instructed
although how much the girls felt over their heavy
dresses was anyone’s guess. But they did kick and
yell a lot and were quite flushed by the time their
husbands pulled them to their feet, much to Pierre’s
delight.
He proceeded to give each of them a hug and
kissed their cheeks, and Kat and Frankie decided
not be angry with him. Their husbands were a
different story, however, and once again; they were
vowing revenge for being made a public spectacle.
“I hope you sleep with one eye open tonight,
husband,” whispered Kat fiercely, her emerald eyes
flashing at Morg.
“I don’t plan on sleeping at all, tonight,” he
responded wickedly and winked at her. Kat refused
to answer that.
It was much later when Frankie and Jacques
were finally alone in their new home above the jail,
that he brought up revenge again.
“Do you still want revenge on me, ma amie?”
Jacques asked wickedly, running his palm over her
smooth creamy buttocks as she lay beside him.
Frankie thought about it for a moment. “Oh, I
think I can get revenge anytime I wish,” she
responded throatily, caressing the hard muscles of
his chest and running her palm down his flat
stomach. “Just not the kind you are used to.” She
smiled sweetly at him as she teased his manhood

443
with her fingers, lightly touching him and pulling
back.
“Be careful, my little pirate,” responded Jacques
with a growl. “Revenge can be a two way street you
know.”
“Isn’t that the best kind?” she replied teasingly,
her blue green eyes turning deeply blue as he
stared down at him.
“Oui,” he growled, pulling her head down to take
her rosy lips more fully. “It is, indeed, the sweetest
revenge of all.”

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