Free My Lady Pirate by Danelle Harmon Page B

out. Captain Lord? For God’s sake, do sit down, you look fair to fainting!”
    “I er, cannot, sir—”
    The tip of Orla’s sword was pointed at his groin, and held so close to the stainless white breeches that the captain could not move without risk of injury.
    Maeve plucked the folds of her wet shirt from her body, smiled, and took another bite of her apple. “Be easy, Orla.” Crunch. “Let the poor man sit down, as His Lordship says.” She watched in high amusement as Captain Lord, who was still staring at her, moved warily to a chair. “Now that we are all happily seated, let me state my business.”
    “Yes, please do,“ Hardy growled, clearly annoyed.
    “Damn your business,” Nelson said anxiously, “just give me news of Veal-noove!”
    “Villeneuve,” Maeve said, casually motioning with her apple, “has been at Martinique,
    where he joined forces with the Spanish admiral, Gravina. I knew that already, of course, thanks to tavern talk, and had it confirmed while speaking a ship on my way to find you. As we sit here talking, the Combined Fleet is passing Dominica on a northerly course. You’d do well to come about and steer after them, milord. There is nothing for you at Tobago, nor Trinidad.”
    Nelson looked thunderstruck. He glanced up at Hardy.
    “Folly, sir!” the burly captain exclaimed. “General Brereton insists the French are at Tobago! I urge you to think carefully before considering the words of a pirate. “
    “But Hardy, her words are in keeping with my own hunches!” Nelson cried, thumping his
    fist against his chest. “And when have they ever steered me wrong? What if she is right and the French are indeed heading—oh, dear God—toward Antigua?”
    “What if she is lying, sir, and we come about, steer north, and find afterward that Brereton’s information was right? You will be the laughingstock of the Fleet, of England, for heeding the advice of a soothsayer.”
    “’Twould not be the first time I believed such advice, Hardy, indeed it would not!” But then Nelson looked at Maeve, and the wisdom of Hardy’s words sank in. Could he risk his career, indeed, England’s safety, on the word of a pirate?
    Maeve held out her apple and perused it for a moment, then took another bite. “Funny thing about apples,” she soliloquized. Then she turned the half-eaten fruit toward them, exposing its pale flesh, the pocket of seeds. “Did you ever stop to consider, when you eat an apple—or an orange, or any other fruit, for that matter—that what you’re looking at is something no other person on earth has ever looked upon before?”
    They stared at her, each and every one of them.
    “Think about it,” Maeve continued, still holding the apple up. “No one else has ever seen the inside of this particular piece of fruit. Therefore, it is a blessing, and a gift, given from God just for us.” Crunch. “Think about it next time you peel a banana, or bite into an apple.”
    “Get her out of here,” Hardy said, in disgust.
    “No, no, that is quite an extraordinary observation! My own father was of the clergy,
    Captain Merrick, and I’m sure he would have appreciated your wit and insight, as do I. Now tell me”—Nelson’s voice grew a shade harder, and she realized that the mind working behind that penetrating gaze was a sharp one, indeed—”you must have a reason for bringing me this information about Veal-noove in person.”
    “I wanted to meet the Hero of the Nile,” she said mildly.
    “And how do I know you are not betraying me?”
    “I hate the French as much as you do, milord—and wish to see you destroy them. Which
    you will do, of course.”
    “She has the Sight,” Hardy drawled, by way of explanation.
    “Yes, yes, of course!” Nelson said excitedly.
    “However, the primary reason for my visit is of a slightly different nature.” Still chewing her apple, Maeve looked up at him through her lashes, her eyes bright with playfulness. “I came to demand