Christine Dorsey - [Sea 01] (43 page)

“It’s a pardon,” he yelped. “He granted me a full pardon.” Tossing the paper aside, he gathered her up in his arms and twirled around the room, slowing only when she squealed with joy.

“I knew it.” Miranda laughed. “I knew everything would be fine.”

“More of your logical thinking?” Jack kidded as he set her back on the bed.

“Maybe.” Miranda scooted over, making room for her husband. “Why would the king wish to punish a respected planter such as yourself?”

“Why indeed? But I think ‘twas more my promise to stop pirating that swayed him.” Jack laughed and Miranda joined him. But as he leaned against the bolster of pillows, pulling her down with him, Miranda’s expression sobered.

“Jack?”

“Hmmm?”

Miranda leaned up on her elbow. “You aren’t going to miss it, are you? When Phin and the others took the
Sea Hawk
and sailed to the Indian Ocean I feared you might have regrets.”

“What, that I wasn’t going with them?” Jack touched the tip of her nose when she nodded. “Nay. I’ve found my safe harbor right here.” He drew her back into his arms.

Snuggling down, Miranda smiled, then admitted, “There are some things
I
shall miss.”

“Really?” Jack tucked his chin to look at his wife. “Such as?”

“Being married to a lusty pirate for one.”

Shifting, Jack managed to pull her under him. His grin was devilish. “Have I given you any reason to think I’m not just as lusty being a planter?”

“In truth you haven’t.”

“Nor shall I,” Jack said, and trailed kisses down her neck in way of proof.

“What of your gold ear loop?”

Jack lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers. “What of it?”

“I like it.”

“Then, I shall wear it. At times. For you.” He punctuated each sentence with a whispery brush of his lips across hers. “‘Tis that it?”

“Yes.”

“No more questions?”

“No... Except, did I ever tell you of the animalcules Antonie van Leeuwenhoek discovered in your manly fluid?”

“My what?” Shocked, Jack stopped tracing the delicate curve of her chin.

“Well, not yours exactly. But when he observed a drop of the fluid through the microscope he discovered tiny—”

“God’s blood, Miranda. Must we speak of this now?”

Pulling his lips back down to hers, Miranda agreed there were other things she’d rather be doing.

 THE END

To My Readers

I hope you enjoyed the tale of Miranda and her roguish pirate, Gentleman Jack Blackstone. I loved researching and writing it. Though the Blackstone family is fictional, some of the events in the story actually did take place.

In the early settlement of the Carolinas and Florida, there were often raids between the English and Spanish. Lord Cardross’s Scottish settlement at Port Royal was destroyed by the Spanish from St. Augustine. Captives were taken, and there are accounts of prisoners being used in the building of the Castillo de San Marcos.

Miranda’s interest in science—called the philosophies in the seventeenth century—is typical of the time. It was an exciting Age of Science. With the exception of Don Luis and Miranda’s grandfather, all the scientists and discoveries mentioned in this book are factual. Newton, van Leeuwenhoek, and Wren helped change mankind’s understanding of the world.

But it was also a violent time. A time when pirates flourished and as I indicated in this book, were actually accepted in some cities. The reasons were primarily economic. The Navigation Acts forced the colonists to trade only with England—at prices set by English merchants. This meant the English colonists had to sell their exports at lower than world-market prices and buy manufactured goods at relatively high prices. And that doesn’t even take into account the customs duties.

Enter the pirates and privateers who brought “imported” goods into the colonies and sold them at much more reasonable prices. After all, the pirates were assured a hefty profit, for the cargo had cost them no more than shot and sweat, and the chance of meeting a pirate’s death.

Most pirates were an independent lot. They ran their ships by articles that they drew up, and they bowed to no authority, not even that of their captain. The pirates’ version of democracy was way ahead of its time.

And yes, through the years, pardons were granted to pirates. In 1699, King William offered a general amnesty to those pirates willing to accept an oath to plunder no more. Many, like Jack Blackstone, took it. Many more, like the rest of the
Sea Hawk’s
crew, tried their luck in the Indian Ocean.

Jack and Miranda Blackstone are typical of the intrepid souls who pioneered the New World. Together they built a powerful dynasty in the Charleston area.

In my next book,
Sea of Desire
, I tell the story of their great-grandson, Jared Blackstone, a patriot and privateer during the American Revolution. He becomes involved in the colonies’ attempts to gain French support for their fight against England. It’s a tale of espionage and love as Jared matches wits with Lady Merideth Bannister.

 
Sea of Temptation
, the last book in The Blackstone trilogy, follows these men of Charleston through the American Civil War. Devon Blackstone, a rake of a blockade runner, follows the Blackstone men’s penchant for the sea, and for falling in love with strong women, like feisty Felicity Wentworth. When Felicity decides she needs Devon’s help with her Underground Railroad activities, sparks fly.

But the romance and adventure doesn’t stop there. Look for
Sea of Christmas Miracles
, a Christmas novella, to discover how the Blackstone family fares after the War Between the States. Let me know what you think. Follow me on
Facebook
 and
Twitter
, and visit my website at
www.christinedorsey.com
for contest news, a newsletter, and of course information about when my next books will be available on e-books.

 Please read on for an excerpt from Blackstone, Men of the Sea, The Charleston Series, Book 2,
Sea of Desire
,

“Blazing passion, non-stop adventure and a be-still-my-beating-heart-hero are just a few of the highlights in this captivating second novel in Ms. Dorsey’s delectable Charleston Trilogy.
Sea of Desire
is not to be missed!”

—
Romantic Times Magazine

“I cannot but lament... the impending Calamities Britain and her Colonies are about to suffer... Passion governs, and she never governs wisely...”

— Benjamin Franklin

February 5, 1775

Land’s End, England

Late Summer, 1777

A storm was coming.

Merideth Banistar shivered beneath her scarlet cape. Taking a deep breath of sea-scented air, she wrapped the folds more tightly about her body. She stood on a granite ledge overlooking the inlet. When the midday sun burned off the mist she could see for miles across the channel below, but tonight, with even the moon obscured by rain-heavy clouds, darkness enshrouded her. Only the incessant pounding of the surf told of the beach below.

But she hadn’t come here for the view. She’d come escape. Her father’s anger. The uncomfortable naggings of her own conscience.

Could her father be right? Was she dooming them both because of her stubborn refusal to accept Lord Chadwell’s proposal? Merideth swallowed, remembering the rheumy eyes and warted nose of the elderly earl. His skin was parchment thin, and when he spoke to her his breath smelled of soured wine.

Yet, as her father was quick to point out, he seemed kind. He had that to recommend him... that and his fortune.

Merideth sighed, the sound caught by a gust of moisture-laden air and carried toward the looming house behind her.

Banistar Hall. It had been in her family for generations, ever since Charles II awarded the windswept land at the ends of the earth to Richard Banistar in 1665. And they, she and her father, were going to lose it.

Because she couldn’t... or wouldn’t... make a suitable match.

Lord Chadwell was their last chance, according to her father. So yesterday when Merideth stated her refusal to accept him, Alfred Banistar declared all hope gone. And through most of the day and evening placed the fault for their near-impoverishment squarely on Merideth’s shoulders.

The wind whipped about her, tugging at her velvet hem and freeing strands of wildly curling golden hair from beneath her hood. But she refused to accept the blame for their problems. “I won’t,” she yelled into the face of the storm.

As if in response, the sky crackled, flaring the darkness with a sizzle of white lightning.

And in that instant Merideth’s heart leaped to her throat.

For the split second of brilliance revealed a man on the beach below. The flash of’ light caught him bounding from a small boat into the ebb tide, his movements registering raw power. Like herself he was wrapped in a cloak, though his was black as sin and enfolded a form both tall and large of frame.

Merideth stood frozen, like the imprint of the man on her mind, as night again enveloped her. Shaking her head, she tried to convince herself that imagination was playing her for a fool. There was no logical reason for anyone to risk coming ashore mid the rocks below—not in the dark of night. At least no licit reason.