The Bride of Blackbeard by Brynn Chapman Page A

has any number
of women more than willing to bed the likes of—”
    The rest of his diatribe was cut short by
Lucian’s fist colliding with his mouth. A trickle of blood trailed
to his chin. He angrily swiped it away.
    “That is my wife you are speaking of, you
pompous moron! And it is not what I did. It was what you did. Perhaps if you would have put as much time into the
tobacco as the bloody storehouse and cellar full of rum, we would
not all be in this quandary in the first place. Yes, I know about
all of it. Nothing happens on this plantation that I do not know
about. I will finish out the year and crop season here, and then I
want what was promised to me—my land. Then I am taking Constanza
out of this house. If she decides to continue teaching will be her
decision.”
    He stormed from Hopkins’ presence. Kicking
open the front door, he left it to blow back and forth in the
morning wind.
    ~ * ~
    Pilot flipped his head in the air in protest
as Stanzy mounted him in the dim morning light. She adjusted
herself in the saddle as he performed a skitterish dance,
expressing his dislike at having to leave his barn at four thirty
in the morning.
    She couldn’t sleep. The encounter with
Edward Teache the evening before at the schoolhouse had made her
realize how terribly vulnerable she was on the plantation. Teache
was free to roam unchecked about the land, nay even encouraged to
do so by her employer. She felt the rogue could be behind any tree
or building on the property.
    No doubt, she could depend on Lucian to come
to her aid in a heartbeat, but she was also aware that every day,
from sunup to sundown, he was miles away in the fields. Far out of
earshot of any cries for help.
    I am going to conceal a weapon on my
person every day. The lecher could show up anytime he has a mind
to...with that witless employer of mine .
    “Come on, Pilot,” she nudged. The horse
quickened his gallop.
    Momentarily closing her eyes as the wind
blew across her face, she savored the feeling of sitting atop the
magnificent, powerful creature as he pelted forward. Weaving him
along the stone walls that outlined the manor’s property, the
labyrinth of rocks reminded her of her mother’s
homeland—Ireland.
    She wondered if the architect of these walls
had called Ireland his native land as well. From childhood she’d
been raised on Irish folklore and tales. Her mother hadn’t been a
stupid woman. On the other hand, her grandmother had more than
likely been insane, not just exceedingly peculiar.
    Alone, perched on top of Pilot, seemed to be
another way she could think clearly. She was perpetually surrounded
by children, or other hired hands. Her mind was in need of
solitude. Something vexed her, something keeping her from enjoying
the happiness of her new marriage. The dubious problem pricked her
conscience like a thorn on a rosebush. She tried to deny the source
of the anxiety, but it was time to face it.
    Contained in a portion of the letter from
Teache that she’d destroyed after reading it was: “Ye will be
wantin’ to accept me offer, for as ye are probably aware, there be
curses that happen on women who refuse a pirate’s offer to wed. And
I be likin’ ye too much to hand ye that fate .”
    This was a ridiculous notion, she well knew,
and her scientific brain, inherited undoubtedly from her father,
scoffed every time the concept entered her conscious thoughts.
However, her feelings kept nagging at her, and a sense of
dread drenched her heart as she mulled the pirate's words over and
over in her head. She had to get control of her mind.
    You are being as daft as your grandmother.
Stop it you fool! You finally have some happiness, just accept it
graciously.
    She remembered her mother’s extreme
behaviors when Stanzy was but a child. Every September, when the
Irish festival of Samhain would have taken place in her native
land, her mother would make them stay indoors for days at a time,
as this was the time the Dollahan would ride.