The Pirate's Duty (Regent's Revenge #3)
Katherine Bone
Dedication
“A man does what he must—in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures—and that is the basis of all human morality.”
~ Winston S. Churchill
This book is dedicated to those who provide a service to others without seeking selfish gain.
Prologue
The Marauder’s Roost, Cornwall, 20 August 1809
Oriana Thorpe stood on the edge of the cliff contemplating how to kill her brother, Charles. If she’d learned anything in this world, it was that even angels were forced to suffer demons. She’d been born into a bloodthirsty family of smugglers, endured a destructive childhood that had toughened her spirit. And now, at three and twenty, after making her way through a gauntlet of pain and heartbreak, she’d finally earned the right to operate her family’s inn, and she would not let Charles take it from her.
She stared up at the Marauder’s Roost perched high atop a cliff facing the English Channel. Below her feet, the sea roiled against jagged limestone in a continual sucking hiss of water and unyielding rock. Wind snatched at the hem of her gown, and gulls soared above the surf, screeching and circling the swells. The horizon stretched out in every direction, a clear blue sky marred only by a few darkening clouds.
Inhaling the salty, tang-filled air, Oriana directed her determined gaze back to the Roost. Horrific events had blemished its history, not least among which was when Charles had held Lady Chloe Walsingham and her maid, Jane, hostage mere weeks before, killing several people inside the inn. But no matter its past, the Roost had been her mother’s pride and joy. And now it was all Oriana had left in this world.
No one understood her agony—the fact that she loved Charles and had been desperate to save her brother from himself. He thrived on control, and like his former ship, the Viper—which was sitting at the bottom of the sea—she would no longer be part of his quest for power and dominance. She had tried to reach him, to make him believe he could change his evil ways, that he didn’t have to be the man their father had wanted him to be. Regrettably, he’d chosen not to listen, forcing her to stand up to him in defense of her customers.
In a final blow to Charles, she’d chosen an outlander’s blood over their own by aiming a pistol at her brother’s head to save Chloe’s life. Her actions had been a declaration of war, although she hadn’t been prepared to follow through with killing him. A costly mistake, that. Now Charles would destroy her, just as surely as he’d killed Eliza Price, the woman he had claimed to love.
The signs of Charles’s descent into madness had not always been clear. She’d protected her youngest brother against their father’s temperamental outbursts, taking responsibility for Charles’s disobedience when he couldn’t absorb another blow. But the dynamics between them had drastically changed over the years. And now her brother was too far gone, making her wonder why she hadn’t killed him months ago while trying to protect Lady Chloe and her maid.
Her failure to act weighed heavily upon her. When would Charles return to claim his revenge and retrieve the gold he’d left behind?
Oriana, Lady Chloe, and her maid were only alive now because of the Black Regent’s fortuitous arrival at a time when Charles, driven mad with bloodlust, had tried to use the innocent women to get revenge for the sinking of the Viper. The infamous pirate who haunted the shores of Cornwall, assisting the poor and downtrodden, had arrived just in time to rescue Lady Chloe and Jane, driving Charles and his men out of the Roost to places unknown.
But not for long. Her brother would be back. And soon, if his most recent letter was to be believed. Oriana had something he wanted: a cache of ten thousand pounds of stolen gold and a trinket chest filled with his lover’s belongings, which she’d hidden in the cellar. Blood money that had been collected from ships her family had wrecked and from whatever illegal acts Charles had performed.
Footsteps crunched behind her, and Oriana’s nerve endings sprang to life. She spun around, engaged her knees, and raised her sword to fend off her attacker’s blade. Steel arced through the air, slashing down until a screeching, sparking hiss ignited. She dug in her heels and fought to keep from losing her balance against her larger opponent, cursing her slow response.
“Ye’ve got to be faster.” Girard clucked his tongue. He was one of the men the Black Regent left behind to protect her. As before, he lunged, pushing her to the limit of her newly acquired skills. His sharp-edged thrusts exhibited strength and an ability to control every movement, a habit she fought earnestly to mimic. “Yer brother will not warn ye of his approach as I did.”
She called forth all of her energy to sidestep Girard’s attack. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”
“Keep at it.” O’Malley, another of the Regent’s men, encouraged her from the sidelines. “Use yer knees. That’s it! Ye’re showin’ vast improvement, girl.”
Centering her aggression and imagining Girard was wearing Charles’s face, Oriana wielded her sword to counter Girard’s thrusts. The connecting blow cost her, though, and pain jolted through her arm as she fended off his parry.
“She’s not learnin’ fast enough for me likin’.” Girard’s stare bored into her as their blades locked at the hilt. “The fight is ’ere.” He pointed to his eyes and then his sword. “Not ’ere. A man’s eyes speak before ’e acts.”