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    The Buccaneer: Pirates of the Coast
    The Buccaneer: Pirates of the Coast
    The Buccaneer: Pirates of the Coast
    Ebook126 pages1 hour

    The Buccaneer: Pirates of the Coast

    By Barbara Devlin

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    About this ebook

    Armed with magickal gifts, Francie Osborne is a housekeeper by day and a witch by night. Devoted to her employer and friend, Madalene Cavalier, Francie has no time for or interest in the bawdy sea captain who commands a ship for the family business. When love blossoms between the gentle servant and the brash mariner, she pins her hopes on a mysterious poesy ring, casting a charm to ease her doubts. What will the precious bauble show her?

    Ex-pirate Cager Tyne remains a conqueror, seeking something to soothe his restless soul, and the pretty housekeeper will do nicely. But the audacious sailor hides a painful past, and he has no plans to marry. When Francie is arrested for the practice of witchcraft, he is faced with a difficult decision.  What happens when a brazen buccaneer develops a taste for virgin flesh?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBarbara Devlin
    Release dateSep 11, 2017
    ISBN9781945576805
    The Buccaneer: Pirates of the Coast

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      Book preview

      The Buccaneer - Barbara Devlin

      the buccaneer

      barbara devlin

      copyright

      This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

      Copyright © 2017 Barbara Devlin

      All rights reserved.

      No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

      Published by Barbara Devlin

      The Pirates of the Coast Badge is a registered trademark ® of Barbara Devlin.

      Cover art by Lewellen Designs

      Interior art by Dar Albert

      ISBN: 978-1-945576-80-5

      Dedication

      For Mike, because he loves and accepts me.

      The poesy ring charm

      The poesy ring doth devotion signify,

      On a sparkling emerald the faithful can rely.

      All others the bauble spurns,

      If murky the stone turns.

      As the heart is true, and gold is pure,

      Let a green stone endure, and your love is sure.

      ~Barbara Devlin

      the buccaneer

      chapter one

      Boston

      May, 1818

      The love of a good woman could destroy a man’s peace of mind, because she often forced him to confront the less-than-noble aspects of his character, in order to win her heart, and he rarely recovered his sanity after the battle.  It was for that reason Cager Tyne, former bosun of the pirate ship Black Morass turned captain of the renamed, respectable merchant vessel Lady Madalene, never sought more than free and easy access to a light skirt.  Give him a three-penny upright or a disgruntled and dissatisfied wife, any day of the week, and he was happy.

      Yet, as he admired the shapely arse of Francie Osborne, the young and pretty housekeeper and self-described Jane of all trades in the Cavalier home, as she bent to set a bucket on the floor and her cotton frock stretched taut across her hips, he was tempted to take up the fight, if only to savor a taste of her flesh.

      Will you fetch me another cup of coffee, pretty lady?  Sitting at the servant’s table in the kitchen, he held out his empty mug and smiled, which he knew from experience would ruffle her feathers, a pastime he rather enjoyed.  As I am quite thirsty this morning.

      Get it yourself, Mr. Tyne.  Ah, there was the governessy tone that never failed to set his blood on fire.  I do not work for you.

      Aw, now do not get your cute little nose in a snit.  As Cager imagined running his fingers through her thick blond hair, he licked his lips and relished the red flush of her cheeks.  I only want to be friends.  Why do you always frown at me, Francie?

      Because I know who you are, what you are, and what you want, and I am not interested.  And it is Miss Osborne to you, sir.  When he stood and blocked her path, Francie bared her teeth.  Bloody hell, he could have proposed to her, then and there.  Now get out of my way, as there is work to be done, and I have no time for the likes of you.

      But I have time for you.  In a flash, he snatched the bucket and mop from her grasp.  Now why do you flee, when I just want to become better acquainted, beautiful Francie?  Would that not be nice?

      Mr. Tyne—

      Cager.

      In that instant, she gave vent to a snort of frustration, and he could have kissed her silly.  All that spirit wrapped in a dainty package he could not wait to unwrap, if she would simply cooperate.

      Mr. Tyne, give me back my things, and let me pass.  With her foot, she tapped an impatient rhythm, and he could not stifle his amusement.  Fine.  I will dust the back parlor, first, and you can stand here, all day, and hold my mop and bucket.

      My, but you are a stubborn bit o’ fluff.  Given her uncompromising demeanor, he shrugged, as he followed in her wake.  We could have fun, you and I.  Why will you not take a chance on me?

      Because fun is all you want, I am a good girl, and my father raised no fool.  She smoothed her crisp white apron.  What is your excuse?

      You are a saucy wench, but I like that in my women.  He wagged a finger.  Mark my words, I will have you.

      Would you care to wager on that, Mr. Tyne?  At last, he snared her attention, as she turned, faced him, and squared her shoulders, and her ample bosom distracted him.  Tell me, what can you afford to lose?

      Are you that sure of yourself?  Surprised by her new tack, he rocked on his heels, because he was not only a betting man but also a winner.  Or would you prefer I think that, when in truth you are curious about me?

      You are too bold by half, sir.  She snickered, as she returned to the kitchen, marched into the pantry, collected a couple of rags, and stomped to the back parlor, with Cager in tow.  And you mistake annoyance for curiosity, because I know your type.

      And what is that, if I dare inquire?  Of course, it did not matter what she thought of him, because he wanted her.  It was that simple.

      Mrs. Cavalier confides in me, as my family has served hers since before she was born.  After clearing a side table, Francie wiped clean the wood surface.  You were a buccaneer, as was Mr. Cavalier.

      And you do not approve.  It was a statement, not a question.

      It is not my place to approve or disapprove of the master’s former occupation, though I cannot fathom whatever possessed Mrs. Cavalier to take him as her husband, but I do not have to tolerate it in you, Mr. Tyne.  Riding a wave of high dudgeon, which he found adorable, she tidied a stack of newspapers, and he studied her lush red lips, which he could suckle for hours.  And I certainly would never associate with you beyond the confines of my position in this household.

      Locking his legs, he folded his arms.  But you will.

      Will—what?  She blinked.

      Associate with me, in my bed.  To increase the stakes, and rile her even more, because he could not resist her, he winked.  And it will make your eventual surrender all the more sweet.

      "Indeed.  The fascinating housekeeper scoffed.  Then she smiled the sort of smile that gave him collywobbles.  Will you do me one favor, Mr. Tyne?"

      Anything you ask shall be granted, dear Francie.  He braced for the blow that he knew was forthcoming.

      As she leaned near, he noted a subtle lavender scent, and it drew him as a bee to honey.  Hold your breath until that comes to pass.

      Then she rushed to the door, flung open the oak panel, and stormed from the parlor.

      You are a witch, Francie Osborne.  Now Cager chuckled, as she hiked her skirts and broke into a sprint, and he admired her shapely calves.  You cast a spell, and I am your most devout servant.

      ~

      As the housekeeper, lady’s maid, and sometimes cook for the Cavalier family, an odd pairing between the master, Jean Marc, and the genteel lady of the house, Madalene, Francie Clementine Osborne ruled the small staff of the unorthodox residence, with an iron fist.  Given her family had served five generations of Crawfords, Mrs. Cavalier’s ancestors, Francie took her position seriously, and she labored with the expressed intent of bringing honor to her profession.

      Thus she had no time to waste on Mr. Tyne or his bold propositions.

      Still, the handsome sea captain blessed with broad shoulders, dark brown hair, shimmering blue eyes, and a naughty smile, as if he knew how she looked in her chemise, called to her on some magickal level she could not quite decipher despite her well-honed skills.  Indeed, the first time she met him, he kissed her hand, and she detected nothing but unimpeachable strength and calculating ruthlessness.  Yet, there was something about him—some hidden secret, an invisible yet nonetheless potent pain that she sensed, whenever she was in his company.

      Although she was more than willing to help him, because that was her nature, she could not fall prey to his ample charms, like

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