Chapter One:
In Which Our Heroine is Introduced
Governor Jonathan Swann of the British Caribbean settlement of Port Royale was throwing a celebratory ball for his daughter Elizabeth and her new husband. Elizabeth and the talented young blacksmith, Will Turner, had wed a few weeks earlier and had just the previous night returned from a short honeymoon in the American colonies. Governor Swann hoped their married life would be far more uneventful than their unusual courtship. Though Elizabeth and Will had known each other for nearly eleven years, it was only over the past adventurous summer that their true feelings had come to be realized. It sounded almost like something out of a children's fairy story—pirates, secret birthrights, curses, an engagement to the wrong man, true love prevailing at the last second. Governor Swann gave silent thanks that at last, things would calm down and the peaceful quiet that he had known in Port Royale would continue.
The ball at the governor's mansion had started an hour earlier and was in full swing when a late guest was announced. The majordomo banged his staff twice and the music ceased. All eyes glanced upwards toward the doors, and more than one gasp of admiration was heard. "Lady Aine Maguire and Archu Maguire," the majordomo intoned. The man wore a pristine kilt in dark, muted colors, and a dark coat with gleaming buttons. His burly, masculine legs were encased to the knee in white stockings and black shoes which laced partway up the calf. He was older, with grizzled silver hair intertwining with coal black, but there was still enough of the handsome rascal about him to make the gentlemen nervous and the ladies intrigued. The woman next to him, however, had the men entranced and the women jealous. She was a vision in a magnificent gown of soft, mossy green. It was simple and understated, but quite obviously of high cost and quality. The underskirt was of the same mossy green as the rest of the full skirt and fitted bodice, but it was left plain. The rest of the gown was covered with delicate gold embroidery in intertwining Celtic patterns. Her skin was luminescently fair and impudently covered with freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her most striking feature, however, was the burnished russet hair arranged in an elegant knot at the nape of her neck. Though her coloring was not what was considered popular by the aristocracy, there was no denying that she was breathtaking.
Recognizing quality when he saw it, Governor Swann hurried forward to welcome the guests. His mind was whirling in confusion. He had received no notice of any nobility arriving and was at a loss to place Lady Maguire and her glowering male companion.
He reached them just as they finished descending into the ballroom. The music had by this point resumed and the guests were dancing again, although more than one curious pair of eyes were turned their way.
"Lady Maguire," Jonathan bowed. "Welcome to Port Royale. I am Jonathan Swann, the governor."
She curtsied in return, the act elegant and flawless, and offered her gloved hand. "I thank you for your welcome, Governor Swann, but please, I prefer my Christian name to the title. It is difficult to be formal in such a hospitable place."
He kissed the hand. "Lady Aine, then."
"This is my uncle, Archu Maguire. I am traveling with him." Her face was kind but a little bit worried as she looked around. "I am sorry for the interruption. We have only just arrived in port and I did not realize there was a celebration."
Jonathan nodded in welcome at the frowning Irishman, who looked distinctly uncomfortable amidst the finery and opulence of the ballroom, then he turned his attention back to the charming young woman. "You are a welcome addition to our party, Lady Aine. We are celebrating the marriage of my daughter Elizabeth." He glanced over his shoulder to see Elizabeth and Will approaching them. "Here she is. Lady Aine, my daughter, Mrs. Elizabeth Turner, and her husband William."
The ladies curtsied and William bowed, then Aine apologized again with a faint blush. "I am sorry for interrupting your party, Mrs. Turner. I've just arrived from London with some news for your father and did not think of calling ahead to announce my arrival."
"Think nothing of it," Elizabeth said staunchly. "We look to be of an age and I am always desperate for more female companionship. Besides, you must tell me the latest news from London!"
"I would be happy to," Aine replied, a pleased smile wreathing her face. "I am afraid I am also a bit starved for feminine friendship after being at sea for so long." She half turned to the man beside her and threaded an arm through his. "This is my uncle, Archu. He doesn't like parties very much so you must bear with him."
"Aye, I don't," he declared, speaking for the first time. His voice was rough and his accent was blatantly Irish. It was a striking contrast to his niece's elegant, perfectly English elocution. "I put up with 'em for your sake, lass, but don't take me to too many."
Aine grinned then, and continued. "How long have you been in Port Royale, Mr. Turner?"
Will wasn't sure, but for a second it seemed as if Aine and Archu were looking at him as if they knew him. The feeling passed, however, and he cleared his throat. "Nearly eleven years, Lady Aine. I arrived on the same boat as the Governor and Elizabeth."
"We found him floating in the water," Elizabeth said dramatically. "His ship had been sunk by pirates!"
"Pirates!" Aine repeated, her eyes wide. "How exciting! Do you see many of them around here?"
"A few," Will smiled. "One is a good friend by the name of Jack Sparrow."
"Captain Jack Sparrow," Elizabeth correct, giggling.
"Don't let the commodore hear you say that," Jonathan rolled his eyes.
"I've heard of Jack Sparrow," Aine said in a hushed whisper. "Wasn't he the captain of that ship of the damned?"
"No, that was his mutinous first mate Barbossa," Elizabeth answered. "But Jack killed him to save us, and got his ship back."
Will thought there was a trace of amusement in Aine's eyes, but she seemed to believe their story. Lord knew, sometimes he wondered about it himself.
"Would you like some refreshment?" Elizabeth offered, but Aine declined.
"I'm afraid I must see to business first. Governor Swann, I bring some information and orders from London to you, but I've been requested to do so privately."
"Certainly," Jonathan agreed. "If you come to my office, we can take care of everything there."
"Save me some punch," Aine winked at Elizabeth as she and Archu followed the governor.
Once in his office, Jonathan gestured Aine to a seat in front of him. Archu preferred to stand, remaining near the door in a watchful pose.
"I'm quite surprised to receive information in this manner," Jonathan admitted, sitting down as well. "My orders from London are usually quite confidential and very valuable. I am distressed that they put them in the care of a lady. Your life was in danger as you crossed the ocean."
"I was quite safe, I assure you," Aine smiled. "Let me start by asking you if you are familiar with a person by the name of Rory O'Malley?"
"Of course I am!" Jonathan snorted. "He's one of those bloody pirates that make my life a curse around here. He prowls the waters around Spain and France, doesn't he?"
"Rory O'Malley is no longer welcome around Spain and France, and is now based in the Caribbean," Aine said, her expression sardonic.
"He's here?" the governor exclaimed, standing to peer out the window.
"Actually, she's sitting right across from you," Archu announced in a conversational manner.
Jonathan turned very slowly to see Aine looking quite serious. "I beg your pardon?" he cleared his throat.
"Let me reintroduce myself. I am Lady Ruadhri Aine Maguire O'Malley, to be precise," she clarified.
"But you're a woman!" he sputtered. "You can't be a pirate!"
"I've been managing quite competently for six years, and I've been sailing far longer than that," she informed him.
"What do you want here?" Jonathan asked nervously.
"I'm here to make your life easier," she smiled. "His Majesty has requested me to concentrate my attention in the Caribbean now, instead of the Franco-Spanish coast."
"His Majesty?" Jonathan repeateddumbly.
"Come now, Governor Swann, you mustn't believe everything you hear about pirates!" the girl laughed. "The Dark Lady has only ever sailed under letters of marques from the British crown. You could call me an employee of the king, the same as you are yourself. I do not attack British ships unless specifically instructed to do so by his Majesty. My pirating is mainly restricted to ships belonging to countries unfriendly with Britain."
"I don't believe this," Jonathan sat down faintly.
Aine sighed and pulled a packet of papers from the deep pocket of her gown. Without a word, she handed them to the governor.
Jonathan read quickly over the papers, his astonishment growing as he realized that Aine, or Rory O'Malley rather, was legitimate. She sailed under the protection of the British government and acted on the orders of the king himself.
"Why a woman?" he whispered.
"Call it an exchange of favors with the king," Aine said darkly. "My family is allowed to retain its Irish lands in return for the work we do for the crown."
"Why doesn't your uncle do the pirating?"
"I'm not the chief of the clan," Archu replied. "That burden falls to my niece. Even if I were the chief, I would lack the power to keep the lands. It's Rory's connection to the crown that allows us to keep our home."
"I'm sorry?" Jonathan looked lost.
"Don't you know man?" Archu was amused. "She's the king's cousin!"
"Second cousin," Aine corrected. "Possibly removed. I've never understood the genealogy myself. My uncle is right, however. It is because of my relation to the king that he allows me to keep the lands for the Irish side of my family. Because my family has a special history with pirating, we maintain the king's good will through service."
"I'm not even going to ask," the governor said faintly. "So where do we go from here?"
"You are the only one who is to know my true identity," Aine began, "and in this I am dead serious. To the rest of the Caribbean, I am simply Lady Maguire, traveling as a companion to my uncle, a surveyor for the crown. We will touch into port once a month or so with our reports, which will then be sent to London with a special courier. Are you following so far?"
He nodded.
"Now, I am told that the commander of your naval forces here is a Commodore Norrington?"
"Yes. He was recently promoted from Captain but has proved to be an excellent leader."
Aine absorbed that. "As excellent as he may be, I am still Lady Aine to him. He is simply to be informed that the Dark Lady is friendly and not to be interfered with. If suspicions arise as to our unchallenged presence here, we may have to stage some mock duels, but Commodore Norrington does not need to know who Rory O'Malley really is."
"Is that really necessary?" Jonathan protested. "He is an upstanding man and sailor. He can be trusted to keep his word."
"The fewer people that know the truth, the better. This isn't a request, Governor, the king himself agrees with me." Aine met his gaze levelly with her own.
Defeated, he sank back in his seat and ceded authority to her. "How long until you put to sea?"
Aine glanced to Archu and a sort of wordless communication passed between them before she turned back to the governor. "Two days, perhaps three. We must restock our ship, but of course it cannot be seen docking regularly. We have a decoy ship which brings us in from our secret harbor."
Jonathan threw up his hands. "Very well, milady. I don't have a say in the matter, I see, but I don't approve."
"Be that as it may, Governor, I am here for the better of Port Royale," she answered pertly. "I think you'll see things my way sooner or later."
She stood, and after a perfunctory curtsy, left the room. As she did so, she felt the secrecy drift away. She was Rory again, and Rory she would be forever.
Elizabeth saw Rory leaving her father's office, closely followed by the scowling Irishman, and waved her over. "Is all of the boring business concluded?" Elizabeth teased once Rory arrived.
The other girl smiled back, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Very important matters of state are never boring, Mrs. Turner."
"Oh, call me Elizabeth, please," the younger girl begged her. "I don't feel like an old married woman yet."
"Elizabeth, I'm Aine," Rory held out a hand and the other girl shook it stoutly. "I'll give you the London gossip if you'll give me the Port Royale gossip. Who is everyone?"
Will rolled his eyes as the two girls commenced to gossiping, and wandered off to strike up a discussion with someone of a more masculine sensibility. The Irishman retreated too, although Will saw that his gaze was never long from his niece. He watched her like a hawk, Will saw.
Rory declined the next request for a dance based purely on the fact that she was about to faint. She could climb the main mast of her ship in a full on gale, but dancing a minuet took a lot out of her. She headed for the punch bowl, the area around which seemed to be a gathering place. Will and Elizabeth were there, as well, holding what appeared to be a rather spirited discussion with a self-inflated windbag whom Elizabeth had pointed out as Sir Henry Ludlow.
"I suppose you think pirates are as rare as the mythological source of the Nile," Will scoffed.
"Of course not!" Sir Henry said pompously. "The source of the Nile is in the Congo."
"The source of the Nile is, in effect, in Abyssinia," Rory corrected as she refilled her punch.
The group gaped at her for a moment before Sir Henry recovered his wits. "Abyssinia? Ridiculous! The Nile flows from the Congo north!"
"If that were true it would be a severe northeastern flow!" she raised an eyebrow.
"Mayhap it is," he glowered, not liking the fact that a young woman was challenging him. "I tell you, it is in the Congo!"
"Do you have the navigational calculations to prove your theory?" Rory was enjoying herself. She was missing her ship already, and longed for a little excitement. Will and Elizabeth watched them avidly, as did the other guests nearby.
Sir Henry sputtered for a moment. "Well, no, of course not! What use should I have for navigational calculations?" His eyes narrowed in challenge. "Can you prove your little theory thus, madam?" Clearly, he thought he had won.
"Why, certainly," Rory said pleasantly. She glanced around for a moment before settling on the back of her dance card. She took the small attached pencil and began briskly writing out the computations and locations. She had done this exercise so many times in her youth that she could very nearly do it asleep. For good measure, she sketched a little map and marked the source of the Nile with a large, extravagant "x". With a broad smile, she handed the card to Sir Henry.
The older man acquired a pinched look about his face as he looked at the card. "This means nothing to me. How do we know you haven't simply scribbled some numbers?"
There was a long pause and then Will spoke up. "Well, there's someone who can help us. Commodore!" He raised a hand and beckoned.
Rory glanced over to see a magnificently uniformed naval officer change his direction and approach the group. He did indeed bear the rank insignia of commodore, and Rory's heart caught in her throat. She had known she would have dealings with this man, but Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! She hadn't expected him to be so handsome! His tall frame filled out his uniform spectacularly, and beneath his pewter gray wig, his dark eyes sparkled with intelligence.
"Where is the source of the Nile?" Elizabeth demanded as soon as he arrived.
"Abyssinia," he replied, looking rather startled.
"I'd swear it was the Congo," Sir Henry grumbled, looking at Rory's card again as everyone else glanced in awe at its owner.
The commodore took the card from Sir Henry and surprise once again crossed his features as he beheld the calculations. His eyes scanned them rapidly and they could see him quickly working through the math himself. "This is right," he said finally. He looked up. "Who did this?"
"I did," Rory answered, suddenly quite shy.
He glanced at her, impressed. "I should have you come and teach my officers, madam. Your numbers are flawless."
"Thank you," she smiled again.
"Where did you learn that?" Will exclaimed as Sir Henry slunk away.
"My father taught me when I was a little girl," Rory replied with a somewhat faraway look.
"Whatever for?" Elizabeth asked, perplexed.
"Our home in Ireland is on the coast," Rory explained. "Our lands spread out for some distance and it is often necessary to sail from one holding to another. My father thought navigation would be a valuable skill for me to know and drilled me mercilessly. I am grateful for it, however."
"Are you just recently arrived from Ireland?" the commodore asked, his curiosity evident. His question reminded Elizabeth of her manners and she gasped out loud.
"Oh! I'm sorry! This is Lady Aine Maguire, who has just arrived from London, actually. Aine, this is Commodore Lord Alasdair Norrington, the commander of our naval forces here in Port Royale."
"I am pleased to meet you, sir," Aine curtsied gracefully to the commodore's bow.
"Likewise, milady." He smiled briefly at her, and observing her dance card one more time, penciled his name in for a dance. He handed it back to her with an inscrutable look, bowed briefly, and excused himself. Rory watched him cross the room to meet Governor Swann, who had stayed warily away from her since their meeting."
"He likes you," Elizabeth murmured, moving to stand next to the taller girl.
Rory stared wistfully at him. "Do you think so?" No matter if he did, she was not free to love. Her duty was to her people first, and that did not allow for a home and family. She knew that, had grown up knowing it since the death of her younger brother in infancy. The commodore was bound to discover her identity sooner or later, and she knew he would despise her once he knew the truth. It was well known among pirates that the man was the scourge of the scallywags.
"He admires you," Elizabeth continued, "and he does not grant admiration easily. He rarely dances, as well."
Rory threw Elizabeth a dubious glance.
"Oh, he's an excellent dancer," Elizabeth assured her. "Commodore Norrington rarely does anything halfway. It's just that he is usually more concerned with business and the running of the fort. I might as well tell you before anyone else does, because as soon as he dances with you, the gossip will start. He and I were engaged, very briefly, last summer, before I threw convention to the winds to marry the blacksmith."
Rory grinned. "Cast a peer of the realm over for a tradesman?"
"He'll be the first to tell you he's just a younger son," Elizabeth ceded. "He's a very good man, however, and took the breaking of our engagement well. I owe a lot to him, Will as well. You couldn't make a better match." She winked at Rory and walked away.
Rory shook her head in bemusement. She wasn't going to marry him, for pity's sake. It was just a dance! However, when the orchestra began to play the scandalous new waltz and the commodore crossed the room to her, she could almost hear the whispers starting. Good heavens, why had he chosen the waltz?
"Lady Maguire?" he bowed.
"Commodore." She curtsied, and then accepted his hand. She was grateful for the dainty gloves that hid her callused palms. She could tell instinctively that he was very bright and perceptive. It would be hard to deceive him for long, but try she would.
Once on the dance floor, he pulled her in close and smiled ever so slightly. "How do you like the Caribbean so far, Lady Maguire?"
"Please, call me Aine," she replied, realizing that he did indeed dance very well. "I've given everyone else leave to and it would be rude to leave you out."
He chuckled at the teasing. "One peer to another, eh? Very well, I'm Alasdair. Although, I must admit I haven't been called that since I left home."
"Not even amongst your friends?" she frowned.
"I left England to accept a command here under Captain Tyrell. In the interest of the chain of command, I cannot fraternize with my men. Among the officers, I am simply Commodore Norrington. To the rare few who insist on keeping the customs of the ton here, I am milord." He shrugged wryly. "Port Royale is a small place, Aine. You will learn that quickly."
He was lonely, she realized, and she ached to correct that. Archu would shake his head at her and accuse her, as he always did, of being too softhearted to be a pirate. Perhaps she was. But perhaps that bit of soft heart was all that kept her from becoming the kind of pirate that she usually sparred with and fought against. She made an effort to lighten the mood. "When shall I arrive to teach your officers, sir?"
He laughed outright at that. "On the second day of never, Lady. You would shame my men to sniveling babes. As we can't have the pride of the King's Navy fallen to pieces, you must stay away."
"That's a pity. I do enjoy the look of astonishment on people's faces when they realize the ability to navigate and compute is not the sole domain of men."
He spun her around expertly and then raised a dark eyebrow. "You are a rare bird, aren't you?"
"That's what my relatives tell me." By her relatives, she meant cousin George, but she wasn't about to disclose that. "I shall try to be more ladylike, Alasdair."
"You're just fine the way you are," he responded, and by the faint trace of mystification
on his face, she could tell he was surprised to say so. She gathered he didn't usually admire people who stepped outside the norm, but it was all the better for her that he did. As long as he accepted her difference, perhaps he wouldn't seek to learn more.
They danced in silence for a moment, and as Rory glanced at the gatherings of older women scattered across the ballroom, she could tell the speculation regarding her and the commodore had begun. So Elizabeth was right.
"We seem to be inspiring the gossip mill, Commodore," she noted.
Surprised, he glanced over her shoulder and treated her to a rare grin. "So we are. I shall try to rise to the occasion." Inside, his thoughts were churning. People were speculating about him and the delightful Lady Maguire? He normally hated being the subject of gossip and guarded his privacy zealously. Now, however, he found he didn't mind being discussed as his co-subject was Aine. He felt almost unsettled by his change of mind.
The dance ended quickly, more quickly than Rory would have wished it to, and her next partner arrived quickly with an apprehensive look at the commodore. It was his second in command, Lieutenant Gillette. Alasdair nodded at the man with reassurance and retreated to the edge of the crowd. He wondered how long Aine was staying in Port Royale, and how quickly he might see her again. That kind of intensity was unusual for him as well, and unsettled him further, but her appearance had done one thing unmistakably positive for him. It proved to him that any last bit of disappointment he had suffered over Elizabeth's marriage to Will was long gone. He was grateful to be unattached.
Rory's thoughts remained on the dashing commodore longer than she was comfortable with, and with exasperation, she began to refuse dances. She did not want to upstage Elizabeth at the woman's own wedding celebration, and Elizabeth was becoming such a dear friend. Rory was unused to having a female friend, after so many years at sea, and she found she truly liked it. She fanned herself with her dance card and sank back against some palms in the corner of the room. Dancing was a ghastly hot business and the room began to press in on her. Blasting propriety, she crossed the room to the balcony and sighed with relief. The night was cool and the darkness was welcome after the myriad bright lights of the ballroom. She moved to the edge and leaned against the stone railing. The twinkling lights of the port lay below her and she could barely make out the lines of the Dark Lady's decoy ship as it bobbed in harbor. She looked with longing on the ocean. She might resent it sometimes, but she was comfortable as a pirate. It was all she knew, and the ocean represented a certain sort of safety to her. The world inside the ballroom was a foreign one to her, no matter her training or her time at her cousin's court. Though she longed to be a part of it, it frightened her.
She gazed out at the black, rolling waves for some time before a quiet voice behind her remarked, "It's beautiful, isn't it?
She felt the timbers of the commodore's voice come over her like a caress, and she nodded. "As happy as I was to be off that ship, I find I do miss the ocean." The mixture of truths and half truths she was forced to dispense to preserve her identity grated at her, and she fell silent again.
Norrington joined her at the railing and they were companionably silent. She watched him out of the corner of her eye and marveled again at the quickening of her heartbeat. She had heard of the sensation, but never yet experienced it. It was odd how he affected her. Were all women so around him, or was it just her? She longed to be closer to him, touch his face, find out what his hair looked like under the wig. She felt her face warm at the direction her thoughts were taking, and she looked back out at the water.
Norrington saw her blush, and felt ridiculously pleased. He hid his smile, however, and told her, "Governor Swann informed me that you're leaving in a few days."
"Yes. Most likely the day after tomorrow." If she didn't gain control over herself, it would be sooner than that. "My uncle needs to restock his ship, but he's anxious to start his surveying work."
Alasdair hesitated. "This may seem hasty, but in light of your imminent departure, would you like a tour of the island tomorrow morning?"
Rory looked up at him quickly to see if he was serious, but the hint of vulnerability in his sober, reserved expression convinced her. She could say no and he would continue to be a perfect gentleman, or she could say yes and make the both of them happy. "I would be delighted to," she responded, a shy smile spreading across her face.
"Good," he said softly, relieved beyond measure. "Do you ride, or would you prefer a carriage?"
"Oh, let's ride, please!" Eagerly, she grasped his arm. "I haven't been on horseback in what feels like forever."
Flustered, he glanced down at the slender gloved hand on his jacket and felt his throat tighten. Her face began to pinken as she realized what she'd done, and she hastily removed her hand.
Alasdair cleared his throat. "Well. Your uncle is bearing down on us rather quickly, so shall I pick you up at ten?"
When Rory looked, Archu was indeed making his way towards the balcony. Evidently her reputation was going to be in tatters if she stayed unescorted on the balcony any longer with the commodore. "Ten sounds excellent. I'll have the cook pack us a lunch."
"Good evening, then, Lady Maguire." Alasdair bowed before her and left, nodding pleasantly at the glowering Irishman.
Rory watched him, knees weakening, heart racing, and mouth dry. "Hell's bells," she whispered to herself.