Free Lady Pirate by Lynsay Sands Page B

therefore less desirable as a mate. Believe me, Valoree needs all the help she can get. She has none of the social graces considered necessary in a wife in this day and age. She has grown up and spent her life around a bunch of rum-guzzling, tobacco-spitting, foulmouthed pirates and it shows. Just look at her.”
    Silence followed as the men glanced guiltily at Valoree. She sat pretty much sideways in the chair, legs splayed, one thrown over the chair’s cushioned arm, and the other upon the floor. Her skirt was hitched up to reveal the boots and breeches she wore beneath. The men groaned as one at the sight, knowing that every word Meg said was true.
    â€œWell, maybe if someone had told us that she was a girl.” One-Eye glared at Henry as he spoke. “Maybe then we would have done some things different.”
    â€œWhat?” Valoree asked dryly. “Like mutiny?”
    â€œNay,” he snapped, affronted. “Like maybe throwin’ some of them there grace lessons in along with the sword handling and fisticuffs.”
    â€œOh, aye,” she said with a sneer, but was suddenly uncomfortable under their censuring eyes as they took in the way she was sitting. For the first time in her life she felt quite inadequate. She was the captain. She led some of the most ruthless, notorious pirates in the land, and they followed her orders. Yet she suddenly felt like an ignorant, uneducated child. And she didn’t like it.
    Slamming both her booted feet flat on the floor, Valoree stood and glared around the room. “Well, I’ll be leaving all this decision making up to you to ‘vote’ on. Me, I’m going to go take a nap.”
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    She didn’t sleep; she sat in the window seat in the bedchamber she had chosen and stared out at the passing people. Valoree had never seen so many people in one spot in her life. London was just bustling with activity. It was also overcrowded, and noisy, and it stank. She missed the open sea: the breeze in her hair and salty spray on her face. She missed the sound of the men singing their shanties into the wind as they worked. She missed her cabin with its constant rolling sensation, and the safety she felt there. And more than any of those things, she missed the feeling of being in charge, of deciding what to do, and where to go, and what should happen next in her life. It seemed that her life had somehow gotten out of control, and she didn’t much like that.
    Trying not to think of such things, she watched through the window as the men left together in the carriage. Some time later, she saw Henry return alone on foot, a young boy following with several packages. Shortly after that, the carriage returned with Skully and One-Eye on the driver’s seat, and Bull riding atop, seated on towering stacks of goods. When the coach had rolled to a stop in front of the town house, its door popped open and several more members of her crew piled out. She watched mutely as Bull began to hand down sacks of flour, salt, sugar, and other miscellaneous goods from his perch, accepting unhappily that her men expected a lengthy endeavor and obviously intended to stick it out.
    Once the last of the culinary goods were removed, the men turned to unpacking the last two items, a pair of chests—a small coffer, no doubt stuffed full of the coins they planned to spend on this foolish enterprise, and a larger chest. She recognized the latter as the container she had stuffed her gowns into when they had been delivered. Moments later she heard the men banging their way down the hall toward her room.
    Sighing, she stood and moved to the door, pulling it open and stepping aside for Henry to enter. He was followed by One-Eye and Skully and the clothes chest. Setting the chest on the floor, they straightened, grinning from ear to ear.
    â€œYer gowns is here,” Henry announced with determined cheer. “Ye’d best get ready.”
    â€œFor what?” she