The Dagger: Prequel to the Green Sky Seeries

By Jennae Vale

Previously released as Raider of the Deep.
With the murder of her father, Lizette Wickham sets out on an unexpected adventure that will take her from the safety and comfort of her home on the island of Manta Cay and into a world filled with dangerous pirates, lost treasure, and unexpected romance. Lizette’s life, and that of her brother, are in danger. She’s been tasked by a notorious pirate with finding a stolen treasure. If she fails, the results would be disastrous. The only man who can help her has a fearsome reputation of his own. Can she trust him with her life? Can she trust him with her heart?

Years at sea, with only brief time spent ashore, haven’t left Rourke Mackall much room for love in his life. The unexpected death of his friend, Governor William Wickham, upends everything when Rourke meets the governor’s daughter, whom he has sworn to protect. Working together with Lizette to find a missing treasure and the man who murdered her father creates an undeniable attraction that could change both their lives forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennae Vale
• Release date: May 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215580769

Jennae Vale

Jennae Vale is a best selling author of romance with a touch of magic. As a history buff from an early age, Jennae often found herself day-dreaming in history class - wondering what it would be like to live in the places and time periods she was learning about. Writing time travel romance has given her an opportunity to take those daydreams and turn them into stories to share with readers everywhere.Originally from the Boston area, Jennae now lives in the San Francisco Bay area, where some of her characters also reside. When Jennae isn’t writing, she enjoys spending time with her family and her pets, and daydreaming, of course.

Book preview

Prologue

Manta Cay, the Caribbean, 1720

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Amaro Pargo burst through the doors into Governor William Wickham’s office. From the startled expression on Wickham’s face, he’d accomplished his goal of frightening the man before he’d even uttered a word.

Pargo! To what do I owe this great honor? You know I never have meetings here in my home. I would have been happy to meet you in town. The governor was apparently doing his best to get his voice under control, but it wavered and waffled as he spoke.

No need. My business is here, with you. Pargo moved around the room, taking in the extensive library, the fine leather chairs, and the desk where Wickham sat.

His first mate, Agustin, had already positioned himself beside Wickham, flintlock pistol drawn.

Moving with the grace of a cat, Pargo was across the room in three strides, leaning across the desk only inches from the governor’s face. You have something that belongs to me, and I wish to have it back.

Wickham sat, mouth agape, while Pargo smiled and continued to speak softly, as if chatting with an old friend. Well, have you nothing to say?

I don’t know what you mean? I have nothing of yours, Wickham stammered, glancing quickly at Agustin and then back to Pargo.

I don’t believe you, sir. Pargo spoke with certainty.

He was sure the man knew exactly what he meant. He took a turn around the room, examining the books neatly lining shelf after shelf, the fine crystal decanters filled with wine and whisky, and finally plopping himself into an overstuffed leather chair in front of the desk. His steely gaze was locked on Wickham, who squirmed in his seat.

I’ve never boarded your ship, Wickham protested.

I never said you were on my ship, Pargo growled.

Wickham glanced around the room, perhaps searching for a way to escape.

A cynical smile appeared on Pargo’s face. The ship is where I kept my treasure and now it is gone.

What makes you think I took it?

You are the governor. You know everything that happens on Manta Cay. You also have your hand in the pocket of every pirate that sets foot on your island.

"You’ve never paid me to dock Las Animas here. The governor sat up taller in his chair, his voice stronger than before. He seemed to be getting his courage up. You refused."

And that angered you, Pargo said, running his fingers across the smooth wood of the desk.

It is only the tax I collect from everyone who docks a ship here, but I understand that you, being the very important man you are, did not wish to pay. Pargo was a hero in his homeland of Spain and on Tenerife, the island he called home. He was also a renowned pirate feared by anyone who’d ever heard his name and knew of his exploits.

And so, you took my treasure instead.

No. The governor stood and walked around his desk to stand in the center of the room. Agustin followed.

Guyton! A female voice came from somewhere in the house.

Who is that? Pargo asked.

One of the servants, Wickham said, appearing even more nervous and distraught.

It’s his daughter, Agustin said.

You have a daughter? Pargo asked.

Yes, but she’s not here. His distress was evident. Perhaps this daughter could be of use.

Agustin, find his daughter and bring her here. Perhaps she will convince her father to tell me where my treasure is.

No. Please. I’ll tell you everything, Wickham pleaded. He glanced nervously toward Agustin.

A shot rang out, and the governor fell to the carpeted floor. Pargo’s sharp gaze focused on his first mate. Agustin. You’ve shot him.

Agustin shrugged. It was an accident. A slip of the finger. He placed the pistol back in his belt and pulled out another.

The governor was mortally wounded and sprawled out on the floor at his feet. He’d never get the information he sought from him now. He quickly rifled through the papers on the desk and seeing nothing, he turned to Agustin.

You are a fool! he snarled.

Papa! the voice of Wickham’s daughter came to them from a distance. What was that sound?

We must go, Pargo said.

The two men opened the double windows that led out onto a small balcony. A large tree was close enough for them to climb into it and then drop to the ground beneath. If the girl found them, they would have to deal with her, but for now, they would wait safely hidden from view.

Chapter 1

As Lizette Wickham strolled along the shoreline, basket in hand, she kept a lookout for small holes in the sand that told her she’d find clams beneath. She’d hiked her dress up, tucked it between her legs and then into her waistband to keep it as clean and dry as possible. Along with the basket, she carried a rake to help with her task. As she scanned the beach, Lizette also searched for seashells she might bring home for her younger brother George, who was always thrilled with her finds and excited by any unusual shells she came home with.

At times she would take him with her, but today she wanted to be alone. Another suitor had asked her father, the island’s governor, for her hand, but she’d made clear that she had no intention of leaving the island. They had argued and Lizette, not wishing to anger her father further, decided she needed some time to herself. Maria had suggested she go digging for clams.

Lizette loved the beach and went as often as she could, enjoying the feel of the air near the sea, the sound of the gulls, and the fine mist that would reach her when the wind blew. Her father usually indulged his only daughter, but was also quite protective of her. Of late he’d become more and more insistent that she marry. His suggestion that George was getting older and therefore didn’t need her, had upset her greatly. George was only a part of the reason she didn’t wish to marry. Truth be told, she had led a very sheltered life and had no experience beyond Manta Cay. She worried that any future husband would find her uninteresting and then she’d be left alone without her father, George, Guyton or Maria. Maria was like a second mother to her. She’d bonded with her after the death of her own mother and Lizette felt the same maternal love and care from Maria as had come from her mother.

Looking out to the horizon, Lizette saw a ship heading into port. Its white sails billowed in the wind as it glided smoothly across the water. She wished she had the courage to set sail for parts unknown, but she was afraid she was anything but courageous. At seven and twenty, she was no longer a child. She was a full-grown woman. Some would say she had waited too long to marry and she should be happy with any suitors who asked for her hand. Lizette disagreed. When the right man came into her life, she’d know it. Until then, she was happy with things as they were. She kept busy in the kitchen or garden helping Maria, she managed the household for her father, and acted as hostess when he held soirees at their home. She wished he understood how she felt and wondered at his sudden urge to marry her off to any man who asked for her hand.

Bending and digging where she spied a cluster of holes, Lizette found a trove of clams to add to her basket. That should be enough, she said, examining the contents of the hamper.

The ship she’d been watching was now nearing the harbor. In her mind’s eye, she imagined what it might be like to stand on the deck of that ship. To feel the wind in her face as the ship sliced through the waves. It was useless to think about because she wasn’t even allowed near the wharf area of Manta Cay let alone on board a ship. Her father made that clear on the many occasions she asked if she might accompany him to town. His answer was always the same, Lizette, town is no place for a young lady such as yourself. The explanation never went beyond that and so her imagination conjured all sorts of unspeakable images. The beach was the farthest she was allowed to roam from home on her own. Occasional visits to neighbors nearby were also allowed, but no matter how much she asked, the town near the wharf was off-limits to her.

A beautiful white egret accompanied her as she walked. She laughed as it ran away from the waves rushing toward them both and always stayed a few feet in front of her. Lizette didn’t mind getting her legs wet, especially on a hot day such as this one. The egret had a good eye. It stopped and waited before stabbing at a small fish in the shallow water and then swallowing it whole before continuing to wade in search of more.

Lizette had walked a good distance and collected more than enough clams for their dinner. Maria would be happy. She planned on making a fish stew for their meal and the clams, her father’s favorite, would be a welcome addition. She turned back toward the trees that grew along the beach and the path that would lead her home. She would apologize to her father for their earlier disagreement. He, of course, would forgive her and tell her he loved her and was only concerned for her future. She would tell him she loved him dearly and didn’t wish him to be angry with her. She smiled thinking of the conversation they would have.

As she neared the rear of the house, she could see the garden just ahead. She was surprised that Maria wasn’t out tending to the roses and gathering the herbs they would need for their meal.

She must be inside, Lizette thought. She placed the clams in the kitchen, concerned that Maria wasn’t there either. Once in the foyer by the front door entry, she stopped. She thought she heard a male voice. Guyton! she called. There was no answer. She turned back toward the kitchen, but the loud sound of a gunshot coming from upstairs stopped her in her tracks.

Papa! What was that sound? She hurried up the stairs, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. A million thoughts rushed through her head, but nothing could prepare her for what she saw next.

The doors to Governor Wickham’s library were closed, but Lizette threw them open and ran into the room. The sight of her father on the floor confirmed her worst fears. Papa! She dropped to her knees by his side. Guyton! she called as loudly as she could. Her father clutched her hand with a ferocity that surprised her. Lizette knew he was dying although she was hoping a miracle would occur. Blood oozed from the wound in his chest, seeping into the carpet. The papers on his ornate desk were strewn across the floor. Whoever had done this was searching for something, but what?

Governor Wickham gasped for breath, trying to speak as his grip on Lizette’s hand tightened even more.

No, Father. Do not speak. Guyton! she yelled. Where was her father’s servant? Why wasn’t he answering her?

Tears rolled down her cheeks, dropping onto her father’s hand. The hand she now held close to her heart as she said a silent prayer that he would live.

Lizette… he muttered along with a stream of incoherent words. She thought he’d said something about danger and treasure, but it made no sense. Then, in a moment of clarity and with a burst of strength, he said something that sent shivers through her. Rourke Mackall. She’d heard the name before from their neighbors and the servants. He was a pirate. His fearsome reputation was well known in these parts.

What about him, Father? Is he the man who shot you? She lowered her head, hoping to hear him better.

He opened his mouth one last time to speak but nothing came out. His eyes closed and his body went limp. He was gone. She held his hand to her lips, kissing it as her body shuddered with a type of pain she’d never experienced in all her years. She and her brother George were alone in the world. It was just the two of them now. They had no one else.

Sobbing from grief, Lizette’s heart nearly burst at the sound of pounding footsteps rushing up the stairs. A tall, dark-haired man hurried into the room and walked toward her. Nothing about him seemed threatening, but the man who accompanied him held a pistol in his hand and had a dangerous glint in his eyes. Was she to be shot as well?

We heard the gunshot as we approached the house. We were to meet with the governor about some business. The man gazed down at Lizette and her father. Is he…?

He is dead! Lizette cried.

What is your name, my dear?

Lizette. I’m his daughter. Tears streamed down her cheeks as uncontrollable sobs racked her body. Her beloved Papa was dead.

Lizette, come, we must leave. You are in danger here. He held out a hand to her.

Was that what her father had been trying so desperately to tell her? Even still, she didn’t know this man. His heavily accented English told her he was Spanish, and from the looks of him, a pirate. His companion’s appearance only confirmed it. She couldn’t go with him.

No. I cannot leave my brother. She glanced down at her father, still holding his hand in hers, and thought she shouldn’t leave.

"Do not worry. He will come with us. We will take you aboard Las Animas. You will be safe there."

But, my father. He took her arm, lifting her from the floor to stand beside him.

Quickly now. Guyton will take care of your father’s body. Whoever did this may still be nearby. There had been sympathy in his voice when he first spoke, but it was gone now, replaced by what seemed to be impatience.

But… She struggled to free herself, finding she didn’t have the strength. Who are you?

"My men call me Pargo, but you can call me