Actually Tink’s gonna be as rare as a woman aboard a pirate vessel. No. Seriously, you can forget this — stuff. Women and pirates tended towards onshore mixing, except for those scurvy wenches who became pirates themselves. Why? Well, why do you think? Not many women were up to the physically demanding tasks the crew had to do. In fact, there were not many men who were up to it, either.
Of course some of the world’s most famous pirates did marry–just so you know. And not just any scurvy wench either. The infamous….
A Dundee man by the way. Sorry Greenock, the baptismal certificate turned up here. One of the most notorious pirates in the history of the world or one of its most unjustly vilified and prosecuted privateers, married Sarah Bradley Cox Oort, an English woman in her early twenties, who had already been twice widowed and was one of the wealthiest women in New York. It was early in his sailing career and there’s no records of her actually sailing with him although he does look very dapper in the red coat.
Old Blackbeard himself from Bristol in England–ah how these seafaring cities produced the pirates–didn’t just stop at one wife. No apparently he was a ladies man, who fell in love at the drop of his tricorn 14 times.
All aboard a ship apparently which it is purty unlikely, given this biz of women on board. His 14th wife— who he also ‘apparently’ gave to his crew, a bit contradictory for a man who fell in love like that —
was said to be Mary Ormond, the daughter of a plantation owner.
As for the other 13……they’re the stuff of legend, like Old Blackbeard himself at times.
“He’s a cabin boy.”
“Yes. Of some damnable pirate.”
Fury blinked. “Flint?”
“Yes, that’s the fellow’s name. The scourge of the Caribbean, so I was told. And that is the scourge’s cabin boy, James.”
Cabin boy? But was it so surprising? It was just the thing Flint would do if he were cornered and there was no other way out. But not telling her, when he had the temerity to blackmail her, was another matter.
“Small wonder he’s so good at cleaning shoe buckles.” Malmesbury huffed out a small laugh. “Imagine the consequences if you messed that up on board the ship of a scourge. You’d probably be marooned on some deserted island in the middle of nowhere, made to walk the plank.”
Indeed. “So this Flint was never caught?”
“How the blazes would I know what the blazes Flint was? Next you’ll be telling me you knew the scurvy damned blackguard—”
“—and you sailed the Caribbean with him—”
“—and then he brought you to London, where you met Thomas.”
Her gaze froze. To guess so much, if not quite everything…
“Me?” She shrugged. She tried to keep her expression neutral. If Malmesbury or any of the others knew, she would be back on that wharf, working it. If she were lucky. “I’ve heard of him, but that’s all. In Jamaica, everyone had. His name was legendary. But, as you know yourself, Jamaica is a big place.”
She hoped her voice didn’t sound too distant. In truth she had heard of Flint. Everyone had. She’d just never met the notorious bastard until she had stepped on board the Calypso.
“I imagine there would be quite a reward for him. But that’s of no importance to me.”
No. But it was useful information just the same.
Rule One: There will be no kissing. Rule two: You will be fully clothed at all times…
Widowed Lady Fury Shelton hasn’t lost everything—yet. As long as she produces the heir to the Beaumont dukedom, she just might be able to keep her position. And her secrets. But when the callously irresistible Captain James “Flint” Blackmoore sails back into her life, Lady Fury panics. She must find a way to protect herself—and her future—from the man she’d rather see rotting in hell than sleeping in her bed. If she must bed him to keep her secrets, so be it. But she doesn’t have to like it. A set of firm rules for the bedroom will ensure that nothing goes awry. Because above all else, she must stop herself from wanting the one thing that Flint can never give her. His heart.
Ex-privateer Flint Blackmoore has never been good at following the rules. Now, once again embroiled in a situation with the aptly named Lady Fury, he has no idea why he doesn’t simply do the wise thing and walk away. He knows he’s playing with fire, and that getting involved with her again is more dangerous than anything on the high seas. But he can’t understand why she’s so determined to hate him. He isn’t sure if the secret she keeps will make things harder—or easier—for him, but as the battle in the bedroom heats up, he knows at least one thing. Those silly rules of hers will have to go…