Free The Pirate Ruse by Marcia Lynn McClure Page B

leave this room in the near future. Thus I will remain comfortable as I am.”
    Cristabel was far from comfortable lingering in the presence of a man (any man) dressed only in her undergarments. Still, she would not allow him to know he yet intimidated her. Even for the intoxication that had overtaken her from drinking the rum—even for the weakness and vulnerable state it had forced her to—Navarrone knew he could not easily bully her into obeying his will. She must keep the pretense that she would not be bullied.
    “Still, I would like my hairbrush,” she said, going to her trunk , “since you are allowing me the freedom of accessing my things.”
    “Of course,” he said. He stood near her, watching as she opened the trunk.
    As she lifted the trunk’s lid—as she saw the ransacked state of its contents—she sighed . “I see you have already taken inventory here.”
    “We took inventory of everything we brought aboard from the Chichester ,” he said. The right corner of his mouth curved. “Though admittedly, I did not trust that you might try to kill me with some feminine article buried in its belly. Thus, I took the liberty of making certain there were no sharp items within.”
    “Well, it’s certainly obvious pirates do not own the organization al concerns or care for clothing and delicates that British sailors do,” she said. “All my things were perfectly ordered…all my clothing well folded when I first opened the trunk aboard the Chichester .”
     
    Navarrone frowned. He thought of the tale of her abduction—the one she had shared so openly while intoxicated the night before.
    “You say…all you r things were in order?” he asked. “The clothes neatly folded?”
    “Yes,” she said , and he saw the bewilderment on her pretty face.
    “Yet you told me it was not the British who took you from your home…but men speaking French…Acadians,” he said. “Mercenaries would not pause to pack a trunk…especially with care.” He saw the understanding begin to wash over her. “The trunk was—”
    “ Prepared before I was taken,” she finished.
    “ Cristabel Desiree Albay…you are aligned with traitors,” Captain Navarrone said.
    She gasped. “I never revealed my name to you…nor am I aligned with traitors!” she insisted. Doubt puckered her brow then, and he knew she was thinking she had revealed her identity the night before, influenced by the devil’s rum.
    Navarrone pointed to the inside of the trunk’s lid—to her name printed there. Her gaze followed his indication, and she breathed a relieved sigh.
    “ Still, I am no traitor,” she reiterated. “I have told you before that I—”
    “Yet you will not tell me all you know concerning the Chichester …your abduction,” he reminded.
    “You’re a pirate!” she exclaimed.
    “Even so, I am an American—American bred, American born, American raised—and I protect her,” he growled.
    “American born, eh?” she asked. “And where might you have been born, Navarrone the Blue Blade?”
    Navarrone knew he must win her trust—at least a measure of it. He knew that he could expect her to share nothing if he did not offer something in return.
    Thus, he answered, “ Salem.”
    “ Massachusetts?” she asked, smiling. “Salem, Massachusetts? The township of the old witch trials a hundred years ago?”
    “Over a hundred years ago,” he corrected.
    She laughed, and he fought the urge to enjoy her laughter.
    “Well, of course! A pirate…born of witch country. I should have guessed at it,” she giggled.
    “Puritan country as well,” he interjected. He was pleased by her enthusiasm—though somewhat astonished.
    “Indeed…though I think history will find those acc used and hanged for being witches owned the better character.”
    “Then you should be comforted to know that I am descended from the condemned…and not those who sat in ignorant judgment,” he confessed.
    “Truly?” she asked . He could not keep from smiling,