Miss Minerva's Pirate Mishap by Maggie Dallen (inspirational novels TXT) 📕

He blinked at the sight of her face, but no, this was not just his mind playing tricks. She was here, and...

She was bearing down on him.

Her gaze narrowed when she spotted him from the entry to the tavern, another woman at her side, pale and blonde and beautiful in a very English rose sort of way.

She did not compare to Minerva, who was striking in a far different fashion. It was the anger, and the mischief, and the energy that fairly flew out of her just with a stare.

He felt himself struck senseless by it. So much so that he couldn’t bring himself to answer when Caleb turned to see who he was staring at and asked, “What’s that girl doing?”

He wasn’t certain he could say.

“Have you come to strike me again?” Marcus asked when she reached his table. He came to stand as he asked, and Caleb did as well, even remembering his manners enough to nod at the pretty blonde who was smiling brightly at them both.

“Strike him again?” the blonde repeated. “Why, Min, you never told me that you hit the man.”

He flinched. “She wasn’t supposed to tell you about me. Period.”

Minerva didn’t seem the slightest bit apologetic as she planted her hands on her hips. “I do not keep secrets from my sisters, Mr. Haversaw.”

He winced. Wonderful. His little warrior couldn’t keep a secret. He supposed it was too much to ask that she abide by the request he’d made clear to her father. That no one be aware that the pirate who confronted Minerva was not, in fact, a pirate.

He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment as he pondered how best to handle this situation. And by situation, he meant her.

The girl who’d singlehandedly ruined his plans.

He dropped his hand to study her. She looked even more beautiful in the light of day, albeit far less wild with her hair so neatly tucked away as it was, and far more dangerous in an entirely different sort of way.

“Er, Miss Jones,” he started.

“Oh, do call her Minerva,” the blonde said. “And I am Abigail.”

She reached out a gloved hand, and he and Caleb stared at it for a moment too long. Belatedly he grasped it in his own, but...gads. How long had it been since he’d been called upon to use civility?

Perhaps that would work to his favor at the ball. If he acted like a man raised by wolves then surely none of the visiting nobility and gentry would connect him to the heir to an earldom who’d died at sea...even if he did bear a striking resemblance to the current earl.

He scratched at the back of his neck with a grimace as his dilemma came back to him in full force. He supposed he could recruit the captain to help him even though the captain had made it quite clear that he resented Marcus’s suspicions when it came to his officers.

Understandably.

Marcus would have cut down any man who accused one of his crew members of such dishonorable conduct. Certainly he ran a crew of thieves but, as the saying went, there was still honor amongst them.

Even so, he’d need assistance for this next portion of his plan, and he had no way of knowing who he could trust.

“Pardon me,” Minerva said.

He blinked as he realized she was still eying him steadily. “Er, yes?”

Curses. He truly had lost all ability to be sociable, indeed. He’d forgotten entirely how to speak to a pretty young lady.

“It seems I chose the wrong time to bother you,” Minerva said, her voice just a touch too sweet to be genuine. “You seem to be otherwise occupied with your thoughts.”

He choked on a laugh. “My apologies, miss. Was I—?”

“Staring? Yes,” she finished.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Minerva—” He did not miss how her lips twitched with irritation. No doubt she was not pleased that Abigail had taken it upon herself to make them better acquainted. “I suppose I was surprised to see you here, that is all.”

That, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.

He kept that last part to himself.

She was already eyeing him like he was some predator. He couldn’t say that he blamed her. Even with his beard neatly trimmed and his hair combed, he was a far cry from the upright young officers he’d seen parading through town this morning.

He was too old, for one. Not ancient, but not a youth anymore, either. He nearly snarled at the memory of that officer from the other night.

Minerva shifted, tugging at her gloves. “Yes, well, I was hoping to have a word with you.”

He stared at her in incomprehension for a moment. Curses, he truly was losing his wits if this little wisp of a lady was stealing his tongue at every turn. It was only...

He glanced over at an equally bemused Caleb. Neither of them were accustomed to proper young ladies seeking them out and asking for a word. They were not what anyone might call ‘approachable.’

And then there was the fact that he was in a pub. With a man who looked even more fierce and brutal than he did on his very worst day. But his little Min was not just unfazed by being this close to two brutes, she seemed positively...comfortable.

Her chin tilted higher. “Well, Mr. Haversaw?” She glanced around meaningfully. “I had hoped we could hold this discussion somewhere a little more private, but if you wish for these men to overhear—”

“No,” he said quickly, reaching for his hat and cramming it on his head as he snagged her by the elbow and led her toward the far corner, still in sight of the others but where no one could hear.

“Will your sister be all right with my, er...my associate?” he asked, glancing back at the utterly demure young lady beside his scowling rogue of a mate.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?” Minerva’s eyes glinted with mischief and he let out a huff of a