The Pirate's Temptation (Pirates of Britannia World Book 12) Read online

  The Pirate’s Temptation

  A Pirates of Britannia World Novel

  Tara Kingston

  To my mother and grandmother… You taught me that reading is a treasure beyond compare.

  Acknowledgments

  Much love to my husband for encouraging me to pursue my dreams.

  Many sincere thanks to my terrific critique partner, Kathleen Bittner Roth. Your friendship and honesty mean so much to me.

  Much gratitude to Kathryn LeVeque and Eliza Knight for creating this fantastic world of pirates, adventure and love and for offering me the opportunity to create a story in this series.

  A big hug to authors Barbara Bettis, Tracey Devlyn, Lane McFarland, Renee Ann Miller, Averil Reisman, and Tess St. John. I truly appreciate your friendship and encouragement.

  Last, but not least, a very sincere thank you to my readers. Please stay in touch on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, or through my website at www.tarakingston.com.

  About the Book

  A governess with a secret…

  On the run from a vindictive lord, Leana Fraser connives her way into a privateer’s Highland home, the perfect refuge for a woman who doesn’t want to be found. Given ten days to prove she’s not just another in the string of governesses his precocious daughters have driven away, she takes on the challenge. Resisting their wickedly handsome father’s seductive charm is a far more daunting proposition. Leana knows better than to surrender to temptation. Pity her heart doesn’t agree.

  The Devil of the Highlands…

  Like his ancestors before him, James MacArron commanded crews of rough and ready pirates, but raising his daughters alone is more challenging than any mutiny. The widowed privateer needs a governess, and fast—yet his gut tells him the spirited beauty who shows up at his door is not entirely what she seems. As the governess wins over his rebellious children, he’s drawn to her, but she’s a temptation he cannot afford. Falling for Leana is out of the question. Until an old enemy rears his head, and Jamie and Leana must risk everything to claim their hearts’ desire.

  Copyright

  Text copyright by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Pirates of Britannia Connected World publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by DragonMedia Publishing, Inc. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Pirates of Britannia connected series by Kathryn Le Veque and Eliza Knight remain exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Kathryn Le Veque and/or Eliza Knight, or their affiliates or licensors.

  All characters created by the author of this novel remain the copyrighted property of the author.

  THE PIRATE’S TEMPTATION © 2018 Tara Kingston. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part or the whole of this book may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted or utilized (other than for reading by the intended reader) in ANY form (now known or hereafter invented) without prior written permission by the author. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal, and punishable by law.

  THE PIRATE’S TEMPTATION is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and or are used fictitiously and solely the product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Kim Killion @ The Killion Group, Inc.

  Editor: The Killion Group, Inc.

  Published by DragonMedia, Inc.

  PO Box 7968

  La Verne CA 91750

  Contents

  Legend of the Pirates of Britannia

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Tara Kingston

  Excerpt from THE SEA DEVIL

  Excerpt from SEA WOLFE

  Excerpt from THE MARAUDER

  Legend of the Pirates of Britannia

  In the year of our Lord 854, a wee lad by the name of Arthur MacAlpin set out on an adventure that would turn the tides of his fortune, for what could be more exciting than being feared and showered with gold?

  Arthur wanted to be king. A sovereign as great as King Arthur, who came hundreds of years before him. The legendary knight who was able to pull a magical sword from stone, met ladies in lakes and vanquished evil with a vast following who worshipped him. But while that King Arthur brought to mind dreamlike images of a roundtable surrounded by chivalrous knights and the ladies they romanced, MacAlpin wanted to summon night terrors from every babe, woman and man.

  Aye, MacAlpin, king of the pirates of Britannia would be a name most feared. A name that crossed children’s lips when the candles were blown out at night. When a shadow passed over a wall, was it the pirate king? When a ship sailed into port in the dark hours of night, was it him?

  As the fourth son of the conquering Pictish King Cináed, Arthur wanted to prove himself to his father. He wanted to make his father proud, and show him that he, too, could be a conqueror. King Cináed was praised widely for having run off the Vikings, for saving his people, for amassing a vast and strong army. No one would dare encroach on his conquered lands when they would have to face the end of his blade.

  Arthur wanted that, too. He wanted to be feared. Awed. To hold his sword up and have devils come flying from the tip.

  So, it was on a fateful summer night in 854 that, at the age of ten and nine, Arthur amassed a crew of young and roguish Picts and stealthily commandeered one of his father’s ships. They blackened the sails to hide them from those on watch and began an adventure that would last a lifetime and beyond.

  The lads trolled the seas, boarding ships and sacking small coastal villages. In fact, they even sailed so far north as to raid a Viking village in the name of his father. By the time they returned to Oban, and the seat of King Cináed, all of Scotland was raging about Arthur’s atrocities. Confused, he tried to explain, but his father would not listen and would not allow him back into the castle.

  King Cináed banished his youngest son from the land, condemned his acts as evil and told him he never wanted to see him again.

  Enraged and experiencing an underlying layer of mortification, Arthur took to the seas, gathering men as he went, and building a family he could trust that would not shun him. They ravaged the sea as well as the land—using his clan’s name as a lasting insult to his father for turning him out.

  The legendary Pirate King was rumored to be merciless, the type of vengeful pirate who would drown a babe in his mother’s own milk if she didn’t give him the pearls at her neck. But with most rumors, they were mostly steeped in falsehoods meant to intimidate. In fact, there may have been a wee boy or two he saved from an untimely fate. Whenever they came across a lad or lass in need, as Arthur himself had once been, they took them into the fold.

  One ship became two. And then three, four, five, until a score of ships with blackened sails roamed the seas.

  These were his warriors. A legion of
men who adored him, respected him, followed him, and, together, they wreaked havoc on the blood ties that had sent him away. And generations upon generations, country upon country, they would spread far and wide until people feared them from horizon to horizon. Every pirate king to follow would be named MacAlpin, so his father’s banishment would never be forgotten.

  Forever lords of the sea. A daring brotherhood, where honor among thieves reigns supreme, and crushing their enemies is a thrilling pastime.

  These are the pirates of Britannia, and here are their stories….

  Prologue

  Off the coast of South Carolina

  March 1864

  The night is too bluidy still.

  As James MacArron boarded the blockade runner Abigail Lee, the relentless quiet set his senses on full alert. He scanned the deck. The privateer had earned a reputation for a cool, logical head and a warrior’s instincts at the helm of a ship. Under his command, the Highland Sorceress had outrun and captured dozens of the swiftest blockade runners ever built, seizing cargo and collecting bounties as he made his fortune.

  This mission to confiscate the munitions smuggled in the hold of the blockade runner and ensure the arms never reached the port at Charleston was like so many others. Commandeer the vessel. Take control of its cargo. Claim the bounty offered by the secretive agent who claimed to represent the highest echelons of Lincoln’s government.

  What the hell was in the air tonight? An unspoken warning set his back teeth on edge. His instincts had never betrayed him.

  So far, every aspect of the mission had gone to plan. As always, the element of surprise had worked to their advantage. The first of his crew to board had made short work of the watchmen. The sight of the deadly sharp cutlass and revolver wielded by each of MacArron’s crew was enough to compel most of the young, green sailors to surrender. This night was no different. Only one foolhardy lieutenant had dared to challenge the raiding party, but faced with a pistol to the forehead, he’d quickly rethought his position on the matter.

  Still, the sense of unease would not leave him in peace. Jamie marched over the deck, his boot heels thudding against the worn wood. He held his knife at the ready, drawing an intangible strength from the feel of the dirk’s worn hilt. Centuries earlier, his ancestor Shaw MacDougall, the notorious captain of the Savage of the Sea, had carried the weapon in battle. The knife had been passed down through generations of men with MacDougall blood flowing in their veins.

  Jamie’s first mate had taken the wheel of the Abigail Lee while the blockade runner’s crewman lay hogtied and gagged, muffled curses spewing around the strip of cloth in his mouth. If the bastard had any sense, he’d thank God Jamie preferred to take control of a ship with little bloodshed. Capturing the cargo was an act of strategy. Violence was necessary, but one did not need to behave like a barbarian. Over time, he’d learned fear was as effective a weapon as a gun.

  Below deck, his men had set about ensuring the surrender of the rest of the crew. They’d tow the captured ship to a nearby island where the cache would be off-loaded onto a military frigate and the sailors would be released to wreak havoc another day.

  “Captain, we’ve found somethin’…ye’ll want t’see this,” Lieutenant Wilson called from the hatch leading to the hold. “I’m bringin’ it up.”

  The ruddy-faced lieutenant rushed up the stairs. He extended his find to Jamie. The broadsword gleamed beneath the light of a single oil lamp. Its hilt was thick and unadorned, save for a blood-red ruby embedded in the metal.

  “Good God, what the hell did ye find?” Jamie studied the weapon in Wilson’s hands. What in blazes? From the looks of it, the sword was very old, an antiquity possessing a value far beyond the jewel in its hilt. Could it be the Bloodhead Sword—a legendary weapon said to have been carried in battle by Robert the Bruce?

  Without warning, the young lieutenant let out a cry of misery. Clutching at his chest, his eyes wild with terror and pain, Wilson gasped as he took a step toward Jamie.

  The sword fell from Wilson’s limp hands. He pitched forward. Collapsed.

  The ship’s captain emerged from the shadows behind the wounded officer, his pale gaze strangely calm.

  A streak of light filled Jamie’s senses. A dagger’s razor-sharp blade sliced through his flesh. The rush of agony nearly brought him to his knees. He brushed his hand against his face, swiping away blinding streams of blood.

  “Keep your filthy hands off of it.” Captain Lachland’s words dripped with venom. “You don’t know what you have.”

  Jamie dodged another slash of the knife. Then another. He curled his hand around the hilt of his dirk. Through the fog of pain and blood, he aimed his strike.

  The blade plunged into Lachland’s chest.

  The captain’s eyes went wide. His fingers splayed against his chest, as if he might stem the flow of blood from the heart wound.

  As Albert Lachland’s head tipped forward, he uttered his final words.

  “My kin will have their revenge.”

  Chapter One

  The Scottish Highlands, April 1875

  The Devil of the Highlands was a dangerous man. Of that, Miss Leana Fraser had no doubt. The pirate was said to be lethal with a pistol. Even more menacing with a cutlass. And utterly merciless in battle. Sailing with deliberate stealth under the cover of darkness, the daring captain had led his crew in raiding even the swiftest of ships. James MacArron called himself a privateer, a mercenary of the seas, but the press insisted he’d been as ruthless as any buccaneer of old. A lass of reasonably good breeding would never associate with this beast of a man, much less take residence under his roof.

  Unfortunately, the Devil of the Highlands was Leana’s best—and last—hope.

  Clutching her not-quite-forged letter of reference in fingers she tried to keep from trembling, she stared at the door knocker, a bold brass wolf’s head. Nibbling her lip, she summoned her courage, even as she set her carpetbag at her side and brushed away a tiny smudge of dirt on her dove gray cape. Reaching lower, she ran her fingers over the fabric of her black skirt, smoothing wool that had become crumpled during the long carriage ride to MacArron’s fortress-like home on the coast of the Moray Firth. It was perfectly reasonable to busy herself in a futile fight to rid the cloth of creases as she stood on the steps outside the massive door to his home. Wasn’t it? After all, her appearance was of paramount importance. As a governess, she had to ensure she was properly presentable.

  Or perhaps, picking at wrinkles she had no hope of smoothing was merely delaying the inevitable.

  Drawing in a calming breath, she squared her shoulders and curled her fingers around the bottom of a brass circle protruding from the wolf’s mouth. A few raps on the door, and the suspense would be over.

  If only she could go through with it.

  She let out the breath and hiked her chin resolutely. It wasn’t every day that a proper young woman prepared to encounter a pirate. This shouldn’t be so bad. Should it? James MacArron was expecting her arrival—in a manner of speaking. After all, he had no way of knowing the agency had selected another governess, an upstanding, childless widow to shepherd the pirate’s motherless bairns. The ever so prim and proper Mrs. Greenstead had balked at the notion of living in a remote castle by the sea with a man who’d earned the title Devil.

  Of course, Mrs. Greenstead could be far more selective when considering a position. She had not sullied her impeccable references by bashing her previous employer over the head, shattering an irreplaceable vase made by Chinese artisans during the time of some long dead emperor. No, Mrs. Greenstead hadn’t snatched a sgian dubh from her employer for the purpose of her own defense. Most likely, the esteemed Mrs. Greenstead wasn’t on the run from a man who wanted her dead.

  But Leana was.

  She’d needed to flee Inverness or face a powerful man’s evil.

  Waiting in the tidy office of the agency’s director, desperate to convince the no-nonsense widow who ran the governess servi
ce to reconsider her refusal to offer Leana a placement—any placement—away from the city, she’d spotted a letter on the director’s desk. Moments later, she’d overheard Mrs. Greenstead’s resounding “No” through the walls of another office. Thanking providence, Leana cast aside her reservations and seized the opportunity. A few skillful strokes of her pen on the purloined reference, and she possessed a letter of recommendation written on fine vellum in the director’s own cramped script.

  And that was perhaps the only stroke of luck Leana had encountered since she’d opened her eyes the day before.

  Well, if one didn’t count the fact that the ancient vase had been within easy reach. When the cur who’d employed her to chaperone his only child had dared to back Leana against an upholstered velvet settee and shove her skirts up to her waist, the fine porcelain vessel had proven a crude but effective means of defense.

  Now, not quite thirty-six hours later, Leana stood on a pirate’s doorstep. If he accepted her as governess to his children—how many, she wasn’t sure—she’d be safe at Castle MacArron. Even a man as powerful as her previous employer would not dare challenge the pirate captain on his own ground. She would have gladly shepherded a passel of brats spawned by Attila the Hun if it meant she’d have a place to take shelter well away from the Earl of Gilford’s reach.