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    The Reaper: Pirates of the Coast, #8
    The Reaper: Pirates of the Coast, #8
    The Reaper: Pirates of the Coast, #8
    Ebook65 pages53 minutes

    The Reaper: Pirates of the Coast, #8

    By Barbara Devlin

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    About this ebook

    A WINSOME WIDOW
    After fleeing an unscrupulous business partner, who lured her into a perilous trap in order to steal her fortune, Charitye Vanderley is assaulted and left for dead. Saved by a less than honorable, altogether vulgar but handsome hero, she must survive in a foreign land, surrounded by strangers, and she knows not who to trust. Desperate, she places her fate in Blade Reyson's callused hands, as she has no one else to defend her, but her errant knight is not what she believes. Alone and afraid, she takes a leap of faith on her unconventional champion, sets sail for Virginia, and prays Blade will not disappoint her, but she does not guard her heart.

    A MERCILESS MARAUDER
    The last in a legendary line of motely pirates, Blade 'Reaper' Reyson sails the seas in search of prize and booty, but he knows the world is changing, and his days as a buccaneer are numbered. When he rescues a young woman floating in the waters near the docks in Port Royal, he turns to an old friend for help. The beautiful widow relies on Blade for comfort and security, and it is a powerful enticement for a man with no prospects. To shield his lady, he embarks on a new path and signs a pact that will guarantee a full pardon for past offenses, if he fulfills the terms and commits no further crimes.


    What happens when old adversaries threaten to destroy the future Blade and Charitye covet?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBarbara Devlin
    Release dateJul 24, 2018
    ISBN9781945576867
    The Reaper: Pirates of the Coast, #8

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      Book preview

      The Reaper - Barbara Devlin

      Chapter One

      Port Royal, Jamaica

      November, 1819

      Looming annihilation had a way of shaking a man—even the most stubborn creature, to his senses, of forcing him to face reality and to ponder an alternative path he might never before considered. For Blade Reaper Reyson, the last in a long, distinguished, and bloody line of ruthless pirates, the world had changed, and he had to change with it or risk forever fading into the past. Forgotten. For him, the most prominent determiner of his fate revolved around his family legacy and a single question for which he had no answer.

      How did he intend to be remembered?

      The leader of a motely crew of brutal privateers, he ruled with merciless control, because his band of cutthroat raiders could smell fear, and the responsibility weighed heavy on his shoulders. As a buccaneer on the run, his choices were few, and it was an alternative course, with the possibility of redemption he needed but did not want, that brought him to Port Royal, in search of a friend and former raider with a potential solution to Blade’s problem, if only he could survive the terms, because old habits often met a hard and painful death.

      A cold wind blew, cutting through the folds of his many-caped greatcoat, and he hunkered as he crossed his arms in front of himself and increased his pace. Just as he approached the entrance to the Port Royal Inn, a vaguely familiar figure descended from a fancy rig parked on the street.

      For a moment, he looked on the chance happening as an opportunity, as a boon to be seized, and he fingered the hilt of his sheathed knife. In mere seconds, he could strike and slit the unfortunate prey’s throat, relieve the poor soul of his purse, and be on his way. Instead, he glimpsed the man’s face in the soft glow of the streetlamp and halted.

      Jean Marc Cavalier, as I live and breathe. Rather than attack, Blade extended a hand in kinship. Given you now own a home on the island, I did not expect to see you in town.

      Reyson, I had word of your arrival, and I was surprised to hear the news, given there remains a steep bounty on your head, regardless of whether or not it is connected to your body. Jean Marc held open the door, and they stepped into the warm and well-lit foyer. And husbandly duty brings me here, to the restaurant, because my wife craves gizzada, which she eats with chocolate sauce and sardines.

      Sardines and chocolate sauce? Blade swallowed hard, because he almost gagged when he contemplated the foul combination, and he appraised the former pirate’s appearance. And you encourage her behavior?

      "Mon Ami, I do whatever she asks, when she is with child, because that is the safest way to survive. Once considered the most murderous buccaneer to sail the seas, Jean Marc appeared altogether harmless, dressed in polished gentleman’s attire, sans the familiar black patch that once concealed his ghostly white eye, as he chuckled. Because it is lunacy to attempt to make sense of pregnancy, which I learned after begetting four daughters on my bride."

      Four daughters and no sons? Holding his belly, Blade laughed. Fortune mocks you.

      Not for long, because I believe in my gut that this one is a boy, but I love my little princesses, and the work is good, so I have no complaints. The easy expression and uncharacteristic grin Jean Marc displayed inspired various images in Blade’s head, none of which he could reconcile, as he reflected on his still uncertain future. And Maddie is young, so we can always try again, because we want more children. Then he narrowed his stare, as they neared the bar. So what brings you to Port Royal?

      You. When Jean Marc arched a brow, Blade squared his shoulders. I spoke with the Marooner, when last I anchored in Tortuga. He said you had access to a British official, who could extend an offer of absolution for past crimes, if I complete a period of atonement.

      Did he? Jean Marc signaled an overly groomed landlubber. I need a couple of glasses of rum and a large serving of gizzada, and the latter must be packed, as I will take it with me.

      Right away, Mr. Cavalier. The bartender nodded but cast a glance of unmistaken suspicion at Blade, and he bristled at the insult, because the servant could not possibly possess knowledge of Blade’s occupation. And how is Mrs. Cavalier?

      Hungry, Antoine. Jean Marc frowned. "And only the gizzada from your kitchen will satisfy her, thus I am

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