Care and Feeding of Pirates Read Online Free PDF

to anybody.
    *** *** ***
    Christopher slid into the shadows of the
Mayfair streets as he made his way south to Piccadilly. He probably
did not need stealth, but it came as a habit. He liked to observe
the world around him without being too closely observed
himself.
    Tonight, though, he was too preoccupied about
Honoria to pay much attention to the world--distracted by the
remembered feel of her, the taste of her, the glorious fact that
she was still his wife.
    His eyes and ears automatically registered
carriages, horses, and people, as well as the thieves who also
tried to keep to the dark. His feet moved him toward Piccadilly and
St. James's, and his meeting there.
    His mind and his heart, however, remained
with Honoria. He wanted her with every breath he drew. Their usual
course was to see one another, stare at each other for a few
moments, then grab each other and start kissing. Laces tore,
buttons spun across the room, linen ripped while they sought each
other with hands and mouths in desperation.
    And then they'd be on the floor, her skirts
raked high, his breeches open, his hands on her thighs, parting
them for the inevitable and final phase of their greeting.
    They simply couldn't keep their hands off
each other. And, Christopher reflected, why should we?
    Honoria was a beautiful and sensual woman,
and he was a man who needed her. Christopher wanted her with an
intensity that had driven him across the world to find her
again.
    St. James's Square, elegant by day, was a far
more interesting place by night. The entire area of St.
James's--the square itself, Jermyn Street, St. James's Street,
Piccadilly--were riddled with clubs for the highest gentlemen in
the land. Aristocrats, military leaders, wellborn gentlemen, old
friends, old money, old ties--a gentleman's club was more his home
than his own house.
    Or so Christopher had heard. He'd never had
the pleasure of entering a gentleman's club and had no interest in
doing so now.
    The aristocratic St. James's had another side
to it. Tucked among the respectable clubs were the hells, gambling
dens in which gentlemen rubbed shoulders with blacklegs and
hardened gamblers ready to fleece young, soft aristocrats.
Upper-class gentlemen came to slum, play games both legal and
illegal, and talk with lovely, well-dressed ladies who enticed
gentlemen to wager.
    Christopher had come to meet a man who could
help him. He entered the Nines, a tall, narrow establishment in St.
James's Square, paid his fee, and went up to the first floor.
    They call this vice, he thought as he
looked around the gaming rooms. Compared to the vice he'd seen in
the ports of Siam, China, and Brazil, the Nines was a child's tea
party. The cardsharps with smooth faces and watchful eyes kept to
their places at tables. They busily took money from young men who
were confident that their names, their father's names, and their
inheritance would allow them to lose whatever they liked.
    Christopher quickly spied the man he was to
meet. Grayson Finley stood at the foot of a hazard table, a tall
man, broad of shoulder, with sun-streaked hair, his face tanned and
weathered like Christopher's. Finley watched the dice and the
thrower with a cynical expression, but Christopher noted that he
won nearly every wager he made.
    Finley had once been one of the most ruthless
and feared pirates on the seas. These days he wore frock coats and
finely tied cravats and owned several estates. He'd been Ardmore's
partner before Ardmore had turned pirate hunter, then years after
they'd gone their separate ways, Finley had inherited a title. Now
he was married, had four children, and was a respectable aristocrat
called Viscount Stoke.
    Christopher did not join the dice game.
Instead he took a turn at Faro, a game in which the optimistic
gambler wagered on what would be the value of the next card the
dealer turned up. Christopher won a few guineas and lost a few.
    He found himself coming under the scrutiny of
a smallish man of about forty,