The Pirate's Tempting Stowaway Read Free

these days, Mrs. Halton’s long black hair cascaded down her back with nary a hint of gray. Dark eyelashes framed wide green eyes. He swallowed and tried not to stare. She was beautiful. Porcelain skin. Rosy lips.  
    The lady didn’t look sick. She didn’t even look like the right person.  
    He narrowed his eyes. “How can you possibly be the mother of a grown woman? Or…acquainted with the Earl of Carlisle?”
    “Read me the letter, and perhaps we’ll both find out.” She gestured at him with the pistol. “Better yet, leave my correspondence on the table, and see your way out.”
    “Why don’t you put that thing down before you lose a hand? Multi-cylinder pistols have been known to explode rather than eject their ammunition. Yours looks like it’s twenty years old.”
    “It is. I bought it after my husband was killed and taught myself to shoot it. Don’t worry, it won’t misfire. I clean it every night.”
    The increase in Steele’s heart rate had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the confident woman in front of him. Owning a gun had made her interesting to him. Being willing to use it had made her even more so. Now that he saw it for himself and realized not only was it three-barreled firepower instead of a lady’s simple muff pistol, but that she also knew how to take care of it…and herself… He was very, very interested.
    He held out his palm. “Give me the gun.”
    “Why would I do so, when I’ve the upper hand?” She succeeded quite admirably with sending an imperious glare down her nose until a sudden violent cough wracked her thin shoulders. She hid her face behind her elbow until the onslaught passed.
    Steele backed up a step without even realizing it, unable to tamp a frisson of remembered terror from sliding down his spine. As soon as she was done coughing, he stepped forward and lowered his voice. “Give me the pistol now, or I’ll wait until your next coughing fit and take it from you.”
    Green eyes flashing in silent fury, she slid the flint out of the pistol’s jaws and slapped the disarmed weapon into his upturned hand. “Give me the letters.”
    “In a moment.” He helped himself to the larger of two uncomfortable-looking chairs. “How long have you had consumption?”
    “I started coughing about six months ago.” She sank into the chair opposite him as if she no longer had the ability to stand.  
    He couldn’t help but remember watching his parents’ eventual decline into death. How angry he had felt. How helpless. But at least they hadn’t been alone. He softened his voice. “How did you know it was consumption?”
    “A traveling surgeon told me in November. There had been other cases nearby, and when he learned I’d been sick for three months… He just knew.”
    Steele frowned. “He knew, or he examined you?”
    “Of course he examined me. From a safe distance. I was already bedridden. Even now, I can’t keep my feet for more than a quarter hour at a time without losing my breath. Once he told me he suspected consumption, I sent my daughter as far away as I could. May I please read her letter?”
    “In a moment.” He held up a finger at her glare. “I’m not being cruel. We both know you’ll stop listening to me the moment I hand over the post. I’m trying to understand the timing. When your daughter left, she didn’t know your diagnosis?”
    Mrs. Halton shook her head. “If I’d told her, she would never have left. And I couldn’t have her death on my conscience.”
    “How did you get her to leave? Triple-barrel turnover pistol, I presume?”
    She smiled sadly. “I lied. Oldest trick there is. I told her there was a miracle cure we didn’t have enough money for, and that if she went to England to find her grandparents, perhaps they would give the money to her. If not outright, then as a dowry.”
    “And you’ve been wasting away ever since? How are you managing, with no servants and no food?”
    “I have a patch of vegetables