Pirate's Prey

By Colleen O'Connell

Shane Christian scorns danger as the notorious pirate, Falcon. Feared and respected for his realm over the sea, his exploits are only surpassed by his devilish charm. No battle waged or venture dared is as great as the ploy he devises to protect Maura Brent - a spirited beauty whose willful nature captures his heart. His strategy to thwart the law risks exposure and potential introduction to the hangman's noose. If he succeeds in safeguarding their love, will he live long enough to treasure the victory?

Maura Brent agrees to a contrived marriage with a manipulative English land baron in exchange for sparing her father imprisonment. A chance encounter with Shane Christian sets the course for a voyage of discovery awakening her passion, broadening her knowledge and strengthening her resolve to guard Shane's identity from his nemesis. Determined to dissolve her marriage to remain with Shane, has her decision ensured his demise?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Aug 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9781509226931

Colleen O'Connell

Colleen O'Connell is dedicated to giving her readers fast-paced, page-turning journeys into the historical world of romance. Writing romance was inevitable with a Theatre Arts major in college and an affinity for reading with a desire to rewrite the storyline as her mind's eye visualized. Born and raised in the Chicagoland area, she currently lives in Northern Kentucky and has a background in Human Resource Management. When not crafting her next historical adventure, she spends her time enjoying other writers' works, watching classic 'Old Hollywood' movies and attempting to moderate overly indulging in chocolate. Is there such a thing? If you want to know more about or connect with Colleen, visit her webpage at https://www.colleenoconnell.org

Book preview

Inc.

She began unlacing the damp chemise she wore, but as she was in the middle of unlacing the garment, the door opened.

Shane walked into the cabin, his rapt attention focused on Maura. Shutting the door behind him, he stared at her silently, drinking in her appearance. She stood before him wearing only her chemise half unlaced. Her skin shone with a warm healthy glow. He had known her form was shapely from having held her in his arms, but he hadn’t realized how well her proportions suited her height.

He walked over to her and cupped her chin in his hand, silently gazing down at her. In the weeks they’d been on the ship sharing the cabin, he’d shown restraint. He had fought his urges more out of deference to her innocence than to her marriage. He had no need for entanglements of the heart. His profession required his total concentration. Strangely, with Maura, he wanted something more than a trifling diversion.

She stood stone-still returning his gaze. When he’d walked into the cabin, she normally would have immediately grabbed the blanket to cover herself for modesty’s sake. She made no move to retrieve it. Standing in his presence, her gaze held bold desire replacing any girlish modesty. Something had been building between them ever since her first day aboard The Champion.

His desire for her was too strong to be denied. He lowered his head, his mouth seeking the softness of hers. Her head tilted upward to meet his advance. There was no going back for either of them. He slid his arms around her, molding her body to his.

Pirate’s Prey

by

Colleen O’Connell

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Pirate’s Prey

COPYRIGHT © 2019 by Colleen O’Connell

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Tea Rose Edition, 2019

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-2692-4

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-2693-1

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To my dear friend, Cindy.

Early on in my writing life, she stumbled across my work in its rawest form. Her simple question boosted my confidence that those beyond family members might be interested in my work. Her question? Where’s the next chapter?

Thank you, Cinders,

for your friendship and support.

Chapter One

Ireland, 1696

Maura Brent stared in horror at Harold Mansbry. She prayed she misinterpreted what his words implied. He stood behind the bank officer like a puppeteer holding the strings of a marionette. Her gaze reverted to her father sitting beside her. His features twisted in fury, a scowl carving a deep groove between his brows. His burning gaze focused on the man who had schemed to purchase his banknote. The banker placed a document before her, holding a quill out for her to take. She stared at the tool as though the man held out a poisonous serpent and expected her to accept its bite willingly.

Her father grasped her wrist. Maura, don’t. I won’t have you sign your life away to this man.

Harold walked around the side of the desk and plucked the quill from the banker’s fingers. He leaned over her. I don’t think I need to remind you of the consequences to those who don’t pay their debts. His words suspended any hope. It would be a shame for your father to be confined to debtor’s prison indefinitely when it can so easily be avoided.

She gritted her teeth against his tone of discernable insincerity. She briefly closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Her upbringing prevented her from spewing the tactless words screaming in her mind, begging for release. Since deciding he wanted her father’s land, he had been unrelenting in his attempts to obtain it. All her father’s efforts over the last year and a half unsuccessfully fighting the man only resulted in exhausting his life’s savings. The bank loan had been an unavoidable necessity. Neither she nor her father had realized how far the land baron would go to exert his power. Harold waved the quill before her.

Repressing the desire to swat the quill away, Maura glanced at her father. I can’t allow the possibility of you in prison if I have the ability to stop it. Her father’s restraining hand slid from her wrist. She focused again on the marriage contract on the desktop. Accepting the quill, she paused to read the document.

Does it really matter what it says?

She shifted a sidelong glance at Harold, shaking her head in helpless frustration.

Then sign it.

Taking another deep breath, she dipped the quill into the inkwell, reluctantly sealing her fate with a signature.

****

The days passed much too quickly for Maura. In the three weeks since she signed the marriage contract, her father had not forgiven himself for the position he’d inadvertently placed her in. There were only two days remaining before the wedding. Had it been two hundred days it still would have been too soon. The banns regarding her forthcoming nuptials officially posted, all protocol was complete. The engagement ball scheduled for this evening was at the insistence of her father’s friend, Finola Taylor.

****

Maura placed her hand in her father’s, accepting his assistance to step down from the carriage. Lights emanated in glowing splendor from the entryway of the Taylor estate, reflecting the warmth of its owner. An enviable hostess, Finola’s balls were attended by the crème of society. Had it been in honor of any other occasion, Maura would have been thrilled. Her chilled hand in her father’s, she shivered, contemplating the evening ahead.

Are you feeling all right, Maura?

Distracted with her own thoughts, she focused on her father. The worry in his gaze made her realize her anxiety must be projecting in her expression and manner.

He squeezed her hand. You look pale.

I’m fine, Father, she assured him. I’ll be fine. She smiled, giving her cheeks a quick pinch to restore color. She had no desire to cause further uneasiness for him.

Upon their entry into the foyer, Finola Taylor enfolded Maura in her arms. I’ve never seen you looking lovelier.

The woman’s embrace dissolved her tension and acted as a soothing balm to her scattered nerves.

Finola pulled back, holding her at arm’s length. You’ll be the envy of every woman here tonight. Finola shifted her attention. James, you must promise me a dance or two.

That I will, Finola. Unless, of course, you’ve already promised all of your dances to some other?

James Brent. As if I were some nubile thing who has every man in the room vying for her favor.

He gazed at her, an appreciative twinkle dancing in his eyes. Darlin’, you still capture the hearts of many, and well you know it.

Her eyes sparkled. Enough now.

Maura smiled at the affection the two shared. It had been some years since her mother had passed, and Finola had been a widow for ten years. It was a pleasure to see them happy in each other’s company after their losses.

Harold walked up to them. Maura’s smile dropped, the strain his presence incited seeping into her the closer he approached. Elegantly dressed in the height of fashion, wearing gray breeches, matching jacket, and a white shirt, his appearance contradicted his personality. A distinguished-looking man, he had a lean build. The gray at his temples complemented his full head of dark hair, the only sign that he was a man in his forties. Yet, in spite of his looks and his considerable wealth, his overriding ambition and manipulative ways detracted from any physical attributes he possessed. He glanced briefly at his pocket watch.

You had me concerned with your delay, my dear.

She remained silent, her back stiffening as she allowed him to kiss the back of her hand. His tone did not express concern, but annoyance. Maura seethed at the dismissive glance he directed at her father before leading her into the ballroom. She barely caught Finola’s whispered words to her father.

Will you tell me what is happening? You despise Harold. How could you approve of this match?

Her father avoided the questions. I need something to drink.

****

Over the next few hours, Maura mingled with other guests and danced more than she cared. Harold had made a point of keeping her by his side, suffocating her by his insistence that she remain with him. When another guest involved him in a conversation, she escaped to the gardens. The cool night air promised a welcome respite from the stifling ballroom. The scent of wild flowers wafted through the air, giving the impression of a tropical isle. She wandered aimlessly down the winding stone path, reveling in the peacefulness that the atmosphere afforded her. She sat at a cushioned bench, fully relaxing for the first time in hours.

Pressing her fingertips to her temples, she closed her eyes, wishing there were some way to prevent the marriage to Harold. What was she to do? Fleetingly, she wondered how many times she’d asked herself that question. The answer was always the same—nothing.

****

Finola approached the two gentlemen entering the front hall of her home. So nice to have you attend, Alex, she greeted. Even dressed in formal attire, with his sandy blond hair combed in place, he hadn’t changed and still held a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. In contrast, his taller friend had a reckless quality about him, his eyes scrutinizing the room’s occupants without appearing obvious.

Finola, allow me to present Shane Christian. Shane, Finola Taylor.

Shane graced the woman with a genuine smile. Mrs. Taylor, this is indeed an honor. Alex has told me of you many times, but his fond descriptions gave me the vaguest hints of the elegance I see before me.

Alex eyed his friend. It’s only that I’d hoped to keep her to myself and not have her enamored by your devilish charm.

You gentlemen are spoiling an old woman’s heart. She directed her gaze at Shane Christian. I am equally honored, Mr. Christian. Alex speaks highly of you. I hope you enjoy the evening. Watching the two men filter through the room, she spied James Brent and was determined he would answer her questions.

****

Shane stood half-heartedly listening to a group of men as his gaze discreetly scanned the occupants in the room, pausing at the women on the opposite side. The change in topic the gentlemen discussed sparked his full attention.

All I say is it’s a damnable thing when these rogues are allowed to roam the seas as if they owned them.

Shane held his smile in check, glancing at the man whose face was flaming with indignation.

It’s the officials who are to blame. Shane slid his gaze to another in the group, the man’s booming voice projecting as though his audience stood across the room rather than directly in front of him. The only thing missing was a pulpit as he continued. If they aren’t secretly dealing with the pirates, they’re too skittish about coming face to face with them. The guard ships are too afraid to even think of tangling with the more notorious.

A third party insinuated himself into the group, clearly having overheard the exuberant delivery of the former statement. The man was a foot shorter than Shane. Had the man been wearing a green jacket and hat, Shane would have taken him for a leprechaun. Faith, it’s the truth. Why, not two days past I found my wife and her friends openly discussing how exciting it would be to be a captive of that scoundrel Falcon’s. Even my own daughter, who’s no more than ten and two, has her head filled with dreams over the pirate. It’s all due to his overtaking a British frigate, and the woman he held captive. After weeks of negotiations with the brigand, British officials finally secure her safety and she hysterically claims she does not want to be saved. It’s outrageous!"

What of her speaking about nothing but his generosities, making him sound the hero? Now every woman who knows the tale longs for capture by this cutthroat. If they but caught and hung him it would be worth having to put up with the others.

"If they could capture him, the originator of the topic concluded. The man is as mysterious as he is talented for evading the law. He turned to Shane. You, sir, do you not agree that this Falcon is the most dangerous pirate on the high seas?"

Shane was happy to finally oblige their viewpoint. I wholeheartedly agree.

Filthy thieves, all of them, the pulpit speaker pronounced. Why don’t they get legitimate livelihoods like the rest of us?

Shane’s eyes narrowed. It may be, sir, that unlike the rest of you, they aren’t handed the world on a silver platter where ordering servants about is considered gainful employment.

The men stood in stunned silence.

The pulpit speaker exhibited a conscience, his voice lowering. Maybe they are less fortunate than most, but surely that doesn’t condone their deeds. There are many poor who manage to get by without resorting to theft.

Shane was undeterred. Tell me, sir, if you were poor and your children had no food, how far would you go to feed them?

The leprechaun interrupted. One would think you commend these scoundrels. Take care, sir. Such dangerous talk may be misconstrued.

Shane shrugged. I merely understand that there are those forced by circumstance into certain ways of life. I don’t stand in judgment over others for no other reason than that my pockets are more fully lined than theirs.

The pulpit speaker gave a heavy sigh. What do you suggest, sir? Are we to look away when our towns are looted by these thieves, telling each other that we must think kindly toward them because they are poorer than we? That is hardly feasible.

It never is, until one day when it is you in such a position. I would suggest that you consider how circumstances in life can change. Anyone can fall victim to misfortune. If you will excuse me.

Shane heard the words of the originator of the conversation as he left the pompous group. Do any of you know who he is?

Shane exited through the nearest doorway leading outside, removing himself from the babble of ignorance. He walked along the pathway into the garden; already bored with the gathering Alex had convinced him to attend. He was about to turn back toward the manor when he noticed a woman. Observing her without notice, he wondered what would cause such a forlorn look on such a beautiful face. His gaze never leaving the girl’s face, he approached the bench she sat upon, pausing a few feet away to study her. Is anyone allowed to guess at the reason you’re sitting alone?

The girl jolted at the sound of his voice. He stood in the shadow of a large oak tree, taking advantage of the veiled darkness to admire the girl’s beauty illuminated by the moon. There was something about her that intrigued him, yet he couldn’t decide the reason. Something beyond her looks, for she was no more beautiful than many others in attendance at the ball. She could be no more than twenty-one. Her hair was the most unusual shade. It was neither the bright deep red that he’d noticed on most of the girls in the ballroom nor the rich brown or silky gold of others, but a soft combination of all three. He was inclined to reach out and touch a silky strand. When she shifted toward the sound, he was mesmerized by the deep blue color of her eyes. Rousing himself from staring slack-jawed at the vision, he repeated his question. May I guess as to why you might be sitting alone?

Does there need to be a reason?

Shane smiled at the girl’s pluck. She attempted to see who had interrupted her. He leaned against the tree’s massive trunk. There does at a ball such as this. He stepped from the shadows, standing before the lass. Either you’re hoping someone in particular will follow you, or someone has upset you. By the expression on your face a moment ago, I’d say it was the latter.

Disconcerted by his close proximity, she attempted to put him off. I’m afraid the moonlight has played your eyesight false. I was merely thinking. She lifted her chin. You see, I’m to be married. She assumed her announcement would send him away. Her assumption was flawed.

He was thoroughly enjoying the exchange and had no intention of rushing its conclusion. So this gathering is in your honor. It still doesn’t explain the sadness on your face when I chanced upon you.

As I said, Mr….

Christian, he provided. Shane Christian.

As I said, Mr. Christian, you were mistaken. She stood abruptly. In any event, my feelings are of no concern to a stranger such as you.

He looked at her for a long moment, as her action had placed them intimately close. He conceded her point. Perhaps so.

I should be getting back.

He smiled. She was flustered, but as close as they stood to each other, he could see that her breath was consistent with an increased heartbeat. The spark in her eyes did not reflect fear, which meant she felt something quite different. He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her gently against him. What’s your name?

Her eyes widened in stunned surprise by the unexpected liberties he took. She attempted to pull away from him, which he couldn’t allow before knowing her name. She huffed, a frown of consternation marring her lovely brow as she yielded. Maura Brent. Why?

Something tells me we won’t be strangers for long. I also prefer to know the name of a woman I’m about to kiss. He slanted his mouth over hers before she had a chance to protest.

Maura Brent leaned against him, her initial struggle to pull away becoming half-hearted as he explored her mouth with his tongue. When he pulled away, a grin spread across his face. She raised her hand to slap it off his face, but he caught her wrist.

The kiss was mutually enjoyed, so there is no need for feigned outrage.

Your assumption that I enjoyed that kiss is wrong. I did not. You have the manners of…of a pirate.

Thank you. He brushed his fingers lightly down her cheek. If you’re going to act the indignant lass, I suggest you not blush so beautifully after I’ve kissed you.

She slapped his hand away. How dare you! Never in my life have I ever met…

There you are. Alex called over to Shane. What in the hell did you say to stir up those men? Given enough encouragement, I wouldn’t doubt they’d call you out. Then while I’m looking for you, I was stopped by that snake Mansbry, who’s preening about like a rooster, boasting of the catch he’s made. Alex sidled up behind them, a jovial grin on his face. I would never have looked for you out here, but Finola mentioned that she’d seen you headed this way. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything? He gave Maura a quizzical glance, then one to Shane.

Not at all, Alex. This is the rooster’s catch. Miss Maura Brent, Alex Steele.

Miss Brent politely acknowledged Alex’s presence with a stiff nod of her head. Shane ignored the burning glare she threw in his direction.

Alex was his affable self. My apologies, Miss Brent. I wasn’t aware of your identity.

Well, if you’ll excuse me, I was about to…

…dance with me, Shane finished for her. He took her by the arm, leading her toward the ballroom. If you will excuse us, Alex.

A low chuckle escaped Alex. By all means.

Her eyes flashed fire as Shane continued to the ballroom. Let go of my arm. She pulled free of his grasp, her gaze darting about, no doubt fearful of creating a scene. I refuse to dance with you.

Shane grinned wickedly. But you will dance with me, regardless. Before she could reply, they had arrived on the dance floor as another waltz began. He pulled her into his arms. He held her far closer than propriety deemed appropriate. His firm grip around her waist prevented any actions she made to separate them. Once again, she attempted to put the proper distance between them, but with an amused smile at her attempts, he pulled her all the closer. Their bodies were pressed to one another as he guided her across the dance floor in time to the music.

Shocked gasps and whispers filtered around them as he whirled her past the open-mouthed onlookers until the last notes of the waltz ended. He escorted her off the dance floor.

Alex joined the two once again. Pardon me, Miss Brent, but would you mind if I had a private word with my friend?

Not in the least, Mr. Steele. Mr. Christian and I are quite through.

I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Shane said in parting.

Maura turned sharply with a swish of her skirts, grimacing at the sight of Harold approaching her, an angry scowl on his face. His accusatory gaze was focused on her, his lips drawn in a tight line as though he was struggling to hold back words from spewing forth. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for what was assured to result in him reprimanding her for some perceived infraction. Her eyes darted to Shane Christian, her heart still beating rapidly with the encounter. She licked her lips, the memory of the man’s mouth on hers sending a warm shiver through her. Her gaze followed his exit from the ballroom, admiring his powerful stride, his…

Where have you been all this time? Gone half the night, showing up dancing with a man no one seems to know.

Her gratifying musings were abruptly shattered by Harold’s demanding question. I haven’t been anywhere.

I don’t happen to believe you.

I don’t happen to care.

Don’t forget, Maura, Harold whispered sharply, I can still place your father in debtor’s prison.

Maura held her tongue, knowing Harold made no idle threat. She longed to leave, yet once the evening concluded, she would be that much closer to her wedding day.

****

The morning of her wedding, Maura dragged herself out of bed. She had slept little through the night, continuously waking with recurring thoughts of the coming day. Once dressed, she cautiously peered at her reflection in the mirror. She absently touched a curl at her temple. She turned toward her maid. You’ve done my hair beautifully, Maggie.

Maggie Casey adjusted her apron about her small frame, securing a stray wisp of her red hair away from her face. Little good it will do to brighten your mood today. She sniffed indignantly. That man isn’t deservin’ of you at all.

Remember, Maggie, once in Harold’s employ, you’ll have to learn to keep those feelings to yourself. Harold wasn’t pleased with my insistence on having you continue as my maid. He may be waiting for the opportunity to dismiss you.

Maggie helped Maura with her veil. As if I would allow that. I promised your mother I would watch out for you. I’ll not allow anyone to dishonor her wish. Dismiss me, indeed.

Maura hugged Maggie to her. I’m glad he doesn’t intimidate you. I wish I could say the same.

Maggie held Maura away from her. You must not allow yourself to be intimidated.

I’ll try. Maura turned back toward the mirror. She waited for the surge of excitement she envisioned when seeing herself in a wedding gown and veil. Instead, the material smothered her with its entrapment. She cared little that the gown was made of exquisite chiffon and delicate lace. Her attitude was one of total indifference. The whole of the wedding day festivities had been arranged, bought, and paid for by Harold.

Maura met her father at the bottom of the staircase. Entwining her arm with his, she forced a smile to ease the worry etched across his brow. I’ll be fine.

If my finances had been more solidified, things might have been different.

You know I don’t hold you responsible, Father. You fought to protect our home from encroachment. Harold Mansbry is the only one to blame.

The lines in her father’s face hardened with determination. I promise you his power over you is short-lived.

Maura nodded. She appreciated her father’s attempt to bolster her up. The wedding would be over soon enough, that was true, but it