Read Online Wicked at Heart by Danelle Harmon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Danelle Harmon
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again.
Orla looked
down, her dark hair blowing about her face.
Connor cleared
his throat.
"Well!"
he finally said, mustering a note of cheer. "Are you ready for that
rescue, then?"
"Aye,"
she replied, her smile wan. "Child's play, Con. At midnight, I take it?"
"Midnight. Though what we're supposed to do with ourselves in the interim, the devil only
knows."
"Are you
bored?" she teased, with a little smile.
"That, my
dear Orla, is an understatement. A salmon trapped in a bucket couldn't be more bored ."
"I suppose
that once the admiral learns who stole his wife's ship, you'll have excitement
enough to keep you busy."
"His wife's
ship, you say! Never forget, Orla, that Maeve stole her from our father, and
while the rest of us all love our sister, she was never granted exclusive
rights to Kestrel . She had her turn with her; now it's mine. Besides,
my father designed Kestrel as a warship, not a training vessel for
Maeve's children." He slanted her an inquisitive look, and his teasing
smile made her heart jump. "Surely, you're not having second doubts about
leaving Maeve and coming along with me, are you?"
"Be
serious, Connor." She laughed and kicked idly at a deck seam, hoping he
hadn't seen the desire in her eyes. "While I'm quite happy that your
sister and Admiral Falconer have managed to sustain their newly wedded bliss, I
must admit that my own life has not seen this much excitement since he forced
us to give up piracy. I have not felt this — this alive , in
years."
"Doubtless,
neither has our lovely Kestrel ." Connor straightened up.
"Well, I'm off," he said and, still swinging his coffee cup, headed
below. "Holler if you need me."
Orla watched his
head disappear beneath the coaming and her smile faded, as weighty as her
heart. Maybe if he hadn't known her for so long, things would be different.
Maybe if she hadn't had such a notorious past, he might show some interest in
her. Maybe if those tiny wrinkles weren't starting to frame her eyes, and
those scattered strands of gray to thread her hair, he might find her lovely.
But she was in her third decade now, and well past her first blush, and Orla
knew in her heart of hearts that Connor Merrick was not apt to pay her any more
notice than would any other decent, God-fearing man.
A despairing
thought, when she considered that all she really wanted was a husband who loved
her, fine children, and a home of her own.
The same things
that Maeve had.
The same things
that all of the ex-pirates of Kestrel 's crew now had.
There'd been
that brief thing with Maeve's English cousin Captain Colin Lord, but the
shipwreck had changed all that, and there had been no one since. And so, for
the past eight years, Orla had made her home with the Falconers, remaining by
her friend's side as one year led into another. Maybe she'd stayed because
many had predicted that the fiery pirate queen wouldn't last a year with Sir
Graham, and Orla had wanted to make sure that everything worked out all right
between them. But Maeve had made a commendable, if not formidable, admiral's
wife, obviously channeling her piratical ways to the bedroom — a fact evidenced
by the admiral's excitable and precocious brood of three. The years had passed,
but while Maeve had taken well to settling down, life had become meaningless
and dull for Orla. She had begun to yearn for the days when she and Kestrel 's
crew of lady pirates had ruled the Caribbean. She had begun to ache inside
whenever she saw a young couple in love, holding hands and gazing deeply into
each other's eyes, and to ache even more if they had a child tagging along with
them.
Life had to
contain more than it did.
She began to
pray, something she hadn't done in a long, long, time, for something.
Anything.
And then Sir
Graham had announced he had business in London, and that it was time to leave
the West Indies and go home for a while. The ocean crossing had been dull, as
had the
Orla looked
down, her dark hair blowing about her face.
Connor cleared
his throat.
"Well!"
he finally said, mustering a note of cheer. "Are you ready for that
rescue, then?"
"Aye,"
she replied, her smile wan. "Child's play, Con. At midnight, I take it?"
"Midnight. Though what we're supposed to do with ourselves in the interim, the devil only
knows."
"Are you
bored?" she teased, with a little smile.
"That, my
dear Orla, is an understatement. A salmon trapped in a bucket couldn't be more bored ."
"I suppose
that once the admiral learns who stole his wife's ship, you'll have excitement
enough to keep you busy."
"His wife's
ship, you say! Never forget, Orla, that Maeve stole her from our father, and
while the rest of us all love our sister, she was never granted exclusive
rights to Kestrel . She had her turn with her; now it's mine. Besides,
my father designed Kestrel as a warship, not a training vessel for
Maeve's children." He slanted her an inquisitive look, and his teasing
smile made her heart jump. "Surely, you're not having second doubts about
leaving Maeve and coming along with me, are you?"
"Be
serious, Connor." She laughed and kicked idly at a deck seam, hoping he
hadn't seen the desire in her eyes. "While I'm quite happy that your
sister and Admiral Falconer have managed to sustain their newly wedded bliss, I
must admit that my own life has not seen this much excitement since he forced
us to give up piracy. I have not felt this — this alive , in
years."
"Doubtless,
neither has our lovely Kestrel ." Connor straightened up.
"Well, I'm off," he said and, still swinging his coffee cup, headed
below. "Holler if you need me."
Orla watched his
head disappear beneath the coaming and her smile faded, as weighty as her
heart. Maybe if he hadn't known her for so long, things would be different.
Maybe if she hadn't had such a notorious past, he might show some interest in
her. Maybe if those tiny wrinkles weren't starting to frame her eyes, and
those scattered strands of gray to thread her hair, he might find her lovely.
But she was in her third decade now, and well past her first blush, and Orla
knew in her heart of hearts that Connor Merrick was not apt to pay her any more
notice than would any other decent, God-fearing man.
A despairing
thought, when she considered that all she really wanted was a husband who loved
her, fine children, and a home of her own.
The same things
that Maeve had.
The same things
that all of the ex-pirates of Kestrel 's crew now had.
There'd been
that brief thing with Maeve's English cousin Captain Colin Lord, but the
shipwreck had changed all that, and there had been no one since. And so, for
the past eight years, Orla had made her home with the Falconers, remaining by
her friend's side as one year led into another. Maybe she'd stayed because
many had predicted that the fiery pirate queen wouldn't last a year with Sir
Graham, and Orla had wanted to make sure that everything worked out all right
between them. But Maeve had made a commendable, if not formidable, admiral's
wife, obviously channeling her piratical ways to the bedroom — a fact evidenced
by the admiral's excitable and precocious brood of three. The years had passed,
but while Maeve had taken well to settling down, life had become meaningless
and dull for Orla. She had begun to yearn for the days when she and Kestrel 's
crew of lady pirates had ruled the Caribbean. She had begun to ache inside
whenever she saw a young couple in love, holding hands and gazing deeply into
each other's eyes, and to ache even more if they had a child tagging along with
them.
Life had to
contain more than it did.
She began to
pray, something she hadn't done in a long, long, time, for something.
Anything.
And then Sir
Graham had announced he had business in London, and that it was time to leave
the West Indies and go home for a while. The ocean crossing had been dull, as
had the
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