A Pirate's Revenge by Meg Hennessy

Author:Meg Hennessy [Hennessy, Meg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Pirates; 1800’s New Orleans; Hidden treasure; treasure hunt; Mercenaries; Bayous; Spanish royalty; New Spain; Historical romance; Entangled Select Historical
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC (Select Historical)
Published: 2015-11-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Rayna watched her coins tumble through the large hollowed-out tree and spin around the carved bottom. Hers weren’t the only coins to fall for wishes. She and Donato both had been born and raised as strict Catholics, and the idea of soliciting a Voudou god for help only demonstrated how necessary it was for her to get back home and to sanity, her life.

Other dancers came up to the tree and sang songs in an odd French she didn’t understand, and tossed coins into the tree. The coins would be gone by morning, one had said to her. A form of charity—the slaves were taking care of each other.

The rhythm of the traveling bands and their calabash drums pulsed through to her feet. She watched the dancers. The colorful tignons, calico dresses, red and gold handkerchiefs, hats and bells, were all a part of this moving menagerie.

She tapped her toe as she sat at a small table sipping her ginger beer, so drawn in by the picture before her, she nearly forgot how much she wanted to go home.

“May I share the table of such a beautiful lady for a sip of coffee?”

Rayna looked up to find a tall, broad-shouldered man standing over her. He had dark hair combed neatly about his head, striking overcoat of black silk, and wore gentlemen’s ruffles around his wrists to match the perfectly pleated cravat around his neck.

He took off his beaver hat and bowed to her with a click of his Hessian heels. From his words, he sounded English but surprised her when he asked again in perfect Spanish.

How could she deny such efforts by a man? Dressed and acting the gentleman, he could coach her knight, who seemed deficit in the manners of true gentry or royalty.

After a moment of consideration, she nodded in agreement and motioned to the chair opposite her. The stranger sat down and ordered a cup of coffee. “May I introduce myself? I am Señor Clarke.”

“Señor Clarke.” She nodded an acknowledgment. “How did you know I was Spanish?”

“Señorita, your beautiful hair, the tint of your skin, the dark, nearly intoxicating eyes—how could you not be?”

She laughed, not meaning to be rude, but found him to be nearly as silly as a buffoon. “What do you want, because that kind of flattery does not work on me.”

He looked somewhat off guard but recovered quickly with a smile. “I assure you, señorita, I am not flattering you, but merely speaking the truth.”

“On that note, I will not disagree, for I would sound foolish to deny my own beauty, would I not?”

Now it was his turn to be entertained. His smile lit his entire face, lifting completely to highlight his eyes, but there was something practiced, or perhaps fraudulent, about that smile. “A smart woman besides. I see you are empty. Let me get us new coffees.”

“Sí, gracias, but mine was a ginger beer.”

“So what is a woman such as yourself doing here…alone at night?”

“Enjoying the music.”

“I often come here to see the dancing.

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