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Pirate of Mystique
Island
by Myla Jackson
Chapter One
"Wait!" Lord Rafe Herrington yanked his
cutlass from the pirate's chest and leaped to the quarterdeck.
All around, his men waged a fierce battle with the crew
of the pirate ship Nomad. The fight was all but over,
the pirates dying or surrendering one by one.
With blood dripping from his sword's edge, Rafe strode
across to where an older man with steely gray hair and
a scruffy beard held the end of a hangman's rope. Seumus
Mackintosh, the boatswain of his own pirate ship the
Serpent's Curse, loved a good hanging.
"He's the capt'n. Soon as he's dancin' the
hempen jig, the rest'll lay down their weapons."
"I have use of him alive." Rafe wiped
the blade of his cutlass across the doomed man's trousers,
leaving a long streak of blood on his dirty rags.
"He's a bloody pirate. I t'ought ye wanted
to rid the seas of sech vermin." Seumus leaned
into the rope enough to make the man on the business
end of the noose stand on his toes to keep from choking.
"I want answers." Rafe took control of
the rope from Seumus and loosened it. Then he stood
in front of the filthy pirate who'd plagued the waters
surrounding Mystique Island for the past month. "For
whom are you working?"
"I work for meself." The man's gruff voice
rattled like bones in a tin cup.
"Then why do you only target some of the ships
leaving Port Newton and not all?"
"Why should I tell you? Yer nothin' but a pirate
yerself."
Rage burned in his chest. The man spoke truth. Rafe
was no better than a pirate, no thanks to the witch
Busara. Yet he felt a misguided sense of obligation
to protect his island from marauders such as this. "I
shall make it simple to the point even a filthy, bilge
slime pirate like you can understand. If you don't tell
me, you die." Rafe handed the rope back to Seumus.
The burly Scot leaned hard on the rope, jerking
the pirate off his feet.
With his hands tied behind his back, the pirate
kicked at the air, wheezing unintelligible words out
of his constricted throat.
"What's that? Now you wish to talk?" Rafe
blinked and Seumus let go of the rope.
The captain of the Nomad dropped to his feet, his
knees buckled and he crumpled to the hard wooden deck.
"The governor," he gasped.
Rafe lifted the man by the collar until they were
eye to eye. He held his breath in order to avoid gagging
on the stench of the man's unwashed body. "The
governor, what?"
"I pay him a cut of me booty, he gives me certain
information." The man shrugged a ragged shoulder.
"Works to both our benefits."
Heat rose beneath Rafe's blood-splattered white
shirt. "Governor Lord Sheldon Braithwaite?"
The bastard who'd driven him off the island was responsible
for this cutthroat's reign of terror on the hapless
ships entering and leaving Mystique Island's only port.
"Aye."
"So you murder innocents and steal from them
to pay your debt to the good governor?"
The man's face split into a gap-tooth grin. "Right
ye are. I'll give ye a cut as well, if ye set me free."
Rafe stared hard into the man's black eyes, and
then in a deadly calm voice said, "Hang 'em high,
Seumus."
"Gladly, Capt'n." Seumus leaned on the
rope slowly hefting the man up the mast. The Scot was
soon joined by Murphy Reid, the first mate. Shirtless
and sweating, they applied all their weight into raising
the captain of the Nomad high above the melee.
Shouts of challenge turned to dying screams as the crew
of the Nomad dropped from their wounds or threw their
cutlasses and pistols to the ground when confronted
by their captain dangling from the mast.
Rafe retired to his quarters aboard the Serpent's
Curse where he stripped off his torn and bloody shirt.
Seumus barged through the door, carrying a jug of
ale and laughing at Murphy, who entered behind him.
Naked but for the strap holding back his hair, Rafe
stood with his feet spread wide, his hands resting on
his hips. "Have you forgotten common courtesy?"
Seumus stared at Murphy and Murphy back at him.
"Me pardon, Capt'n." He shoved the jug out
in front of him. "After you."
Manners were lost on his boatswain and first mate,
but they were true and loyal men. Rafe shook his head.
"The prisoners are secured in the hold and
the Nomad set afire. 'Tis time to celebrate with the
men," Murphy insisted.
Rafe waved aside the jug and stepped to the trunk
containing clean clothing. He opened it and shut it
without retrieving a single item. "I'll not be
celebrating this eve."
"Why ever not?" Murphy slapped Rafe's back.
"The inhabitants of Mystique Island will be forever
in your debt for ridding them of that plundering cur."
"Yes, but you heard the man-Braithwaite is
responsible for allowing the pirating to continue."
"What do ye care, Capt'n?" Seumus tipped
the jug and downed a lusty swallow before continuing.
"Yer no the gov'nor anymore. The people of the
island shunned ye fer the curse."
"Damn and blast the curse!" Rafe lifted
his cutlass and jabbed it into the wood flooring. "I'm
going ashore tonight to break the bloody curse, once
and for all."
"And how would ye be doin' that, sir?"
Seumus set the jug on the table that served to hold
the maps of the Caribbean Islands. "The Obeah woman
refused to cure ye. Do ye propose to force her?"
"If I have to..." Rafe pulled the cutlass
from the wood planking and stared at the razor sharp
blade. "I'll kill her, if I must."
Available
in bookstores January 2008!
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