Kali Romanov had no idea how it happened.
One minute she'd been in the middle of a screening of the latest pirate movie. The next thing she knew, she was on a boat in the middle of the ocean, hearing screams and the clash of swords.
Kali took in the rough appearance of the men on one side, and their uniforms on the other.
It took only an instant to figure out what was going on.
She was on a ship that was being boarded by pirates. So far the pirates seemed to be loosing. Under the relentless clash of the navy's swords—British, judging by the color of their uniforms—the pirates were loosing. Her sudden appearance, however, provided the distraction the pirates needed, and with roar, their blades sank into flesh, and the soldiers began to fall back.
Kali had all of ten seconds to decide which side she was on.
This may well have been a dream, but it was stupid to take chances. The Pirate reputation for raping and killing made her decision. As a small unwashed man in leather vest and breeches ran towards her she grabbed a sword from the limp hand of a fallen soldier and swept it across his body with a natural motion of her arm. His skin split, and the machete he held fell from his hand. With a gurgle, the man grabbed his throat and fell forward.
Kali grabbed his weapon with her free hand. The Filipino martial art in which she'd briefly trained involved the use of two machetes. She didn't want to kill anybody. A cop by profession, she opted for whacking the enemy on the head with the flat of her blade... and then her blood went cold.
Women's screams filled the air, and turning toward the entrance to the lower decks, she saw a couple pirates dragging a couple of young ladies and their maids on deck. True to the stereotype, the ladies were dressed in gowns with voluminous petticoats, some kicking and scratching, others screaming and begging for mercy. She saw the lecherous look on their captors' faces, and venting the frustration of watching rapists go free, she dropped one sword and reached into her blazer.
The first bullet caught the larger of the two men cleanly between the eyes. Before the second could grab his primitive pistol, she shot it neatly out of his hand. The speed and accuracy with which she made her second shot, far better than that of the weapons available at the time, brought the battle to a standstill.
"Release the women!" she shouted, turning quickly to make sure no one could take her off guard.
From the prow of the ship, a voice roared with laughter.
"You are in no position to give orders, boy," the deep voice said in the Queen's English.
Kali stiffened briefly at being called boy, and realizing that her short hair and baggy shirt and jeans made her look that way, she let it slide.
"Were it not for my sudden appearance on this ship, you would not have gained the distraction you needed to gain an advantage," she said, turning to face what she assumed was the pirate captain.
Kali's eyes narrowed on the dashing figure before her, and she barely stifled a gasp.
Before her was the most handsome man she had ever seen.
He was over six feet tall, in tight leather breeches, boots, and a ruffled linen shirt open at the neck revealing his muscled chest. His skin was sun kissed, and his strong jaw, gorgeous dark eyes and long hair vaguely reminded her of the guy who used to play Highlander on TV. At his hip were a primitive pistol and dagger, and in his gloved hand he carried a pirate sword. He appeared to be in his early thirties, and carried himself with the grace and confidence of someone fully in control.
Oh God, she thought irritably.
I'm in a romance novel.
"I thank you for the advantage your sudden appearance provided," the man said wryly, "but being dishonorable pirates, we don't have to extend a gesture of gratitude."
Kali's heart sank, and the grip on her gun tightened.
"Maybe, but I don't have to let you take them alive," she began, refusing to back down. She heard the ladies scream again, and she didn't care. "If you plan to ransom them, they're worthless dead, and if you wanted to have your way with them, they wouldn't be much good to you either...unless you're into that sort of thing,"
The Captain's eyes narrowed.
"You speak grandly for a boy. Are you so willing to kill innocents to keep them out of our clutches?"
The boy's full lips twisted and he pulled a lever on the strange pistol that had killed his crewmen.
"What your crew would do to them is a fate worse than death, CAPTAIN," the boy said, pronouncing his title in a way meant to insult. "I would be sending them to a better place,"
Rory stared at the boy.
He was tall and lanky, with short dark hair, high cheekbones, and slanted eyes that made him look almost elfish in appearance. He wore a baggy button down shirt, boots, and breeches made from blue cloth that looked heavier than linen but lighter than leather. His skin was golden, like that of a Spaniard or someone from the Far East and though he spoke English his accent was like none Rory had ever heard before.
He wasn't sure if it was the boy's bravery or his willingness to kill that shocked him, but as his crew resumed fighting, Captain Rory Frost raised his hand.
"Hold!" he shouted, forcing his crew to a halt. "You have impressed me, boy. I don't know if it's your stupidity or your bravery that I like, but I am willing to give the women a chance,"
The boy, tall, yet nearly a head shorter than himself, frowned, his piercing dark eyes glittering with suspicion.
"Set your terms," the boy said at last.
Rory nodded.
"I'll leave the women on the boat, and enough unchained crewmen to get them to the nearest harbor...IF you can beat me in a sword fight,"
The boy's eyes widened, and he slowly, carefully, put the small pistol in his jacket and switched the sword in his hand for Ratface's machete.
"I have no choice do I?"
Rory smiled and lifted his hand.
"Look around you, boy. The battle is over, you said so yourself,"
The boy looked around, and with a look of resolve, he raised his blade.
Rory decided he admired the boy, and so he enjoyed himself for the first few minutes of the fight, watching the boy slash, parry and thrust. The boy fought with his whole body, swinging his fists and kicking as he slashed. His movements were graceful yet brutal, and full of potential. The little rat clearly had some training, but not nearly enough, and he was getting tired.
The boy's fine white teeth were bared and he was breathing heavily as he made his next move. The tip of Rory's blade sliced through his jacket and shirt at his arm, and the boy paused, staring down at the thin line of blood welling between the split fabrics. The shock on his face was evident.
Whether it was arrogance or plain disbelief, Rory couldn't tell.
All he knew was that it gave him the opening he needed. Quicker than the wind, Rory moved, conking the boy neatly on the head, knocking him out while his crew cheered around him.
"What next cap'n?" Ram, his first mate asked, staring down at the fallen boy.
"We take coin and food as planned." Rory said.
"What about the women?"
"Leave them, and just enough crew to run the ship. Take their weapons and kill the rest,"
"Aye, aye," Ram replied in a heavy Hindi accent, and without a word he went to carry out the order.
As his crew scurried around him, Rory bent toward his fallen adversary, free to study the boy as he lay on the deck unconscious.
There was something strange about him.
The boy's face was prettier than it was handsome, and his hands, Rory realized, taking one in his own, were smooth and delicate... like those of a woman. Rory dropped the boy's hand and reached upward, laying a hand against the boy's chest.
Sure enough, beneath the fabric, he felt a pair of breasts, big and soft enough to fill his hand. Though unconscious, the woman groaned, and her nipple tightened beneath his questing palm.
A pixie, he decided, remembering how she had appeared out of nowhere. He was smiling slightly as he took in her perfect cheekbones and bee stung lips.
God had sent him a pixie.
"Captain?"
Rory instantly removed his hand and jerked the girl's shirt back in to place.
"The boy comes with us!" he announced.
"He killed two of our crew!" Ram protested.
"That's why he might be useful. We could use a brat like him. He shows tremendous potential, if not as fighter, than perhaps as an entertainer,"
That drew a laugh from Ram, and throwing the pixie handily over his shoulder, he made his way back to his ship.
***
