Archive for February 8th, 2021

First Meet – Her Pirate Rogue

Monday, February 8th, 2021

A tumultuous meeting leads to a journey across the ocean and starts something new.

#historical #RakesNRogues #Book3 #pirate #seamstress



Stepping into the light, Pug drew up at the sight of five children along the far wall. Three girls and two boys, both of black and white skin color. Although he knew they were scared, they showed no fear. In fact, they seemed almost defiant.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked softly.

The whisper skating up his back his only warning, he spun, weapon at the ready, only to find no one there. Whirling back to face the children, he promptly lost his breath. A young woman stood between him and the five kids. Her large white shirt hid most of her top, the belt around her hips allowed him to see a bit of definition. No skirt, but breeches that halted at the knees and exposed much of her long, brown legs. Her thick hair, a mass of curls, hung past her shoulders, some strands sticking to her face.

Yes, she was beautiful, but currently, it wasn’t what held his attention. No, it was the brown eyes snapping with defensive fury. All it took was one look, and he knew she would die defending the children. That act, right there, earned her his respect. For, years ago, the woman he now viewed as his mother had done the same for him on a cold, snowy night.

“I mean you no harm.”

Her sword never wavered nor did she speak. Pug ran his gaze over her, swallowing, desperately wishing for some water. He didn’t feel right. Against one hip, she also had a wicked looking short sword. Returning his attention to the kids, he tried again.

“Do any of you speak English?” he asked the question in more than one language.

They didn’t respond. His limbs shook, and he took a step forward. Instantly, her entire stance changed. The blade rose, and her feet moved to an attack position. Whoever she was, she’d been taught to wield a blade.

Feeling like shit, he shook his head. “You do not want to challenge me. Do you really believe you could best me in a fight?” His personal discomfort made his tone derisive and condescending.

Regardless, the woman remained unimpressed. Perhaps it was his imagination, but she appeared a bit arrogant. The ground shifted beneath him, and he fought to remain on his feet. Noises were amplified, and his paranoia grew as he heard voices and large bugs zooming around his head.

His sword clattered to the ground, and he sank—ungracefully—to his knees. The mysterious woman grew fuzzy before him. No way. He’d been drugged or poisoned. The witch had done this to him.

He couldn’t get his limbs to move or make his mouth work. Hell, he could barely swallow. Before he succumbed to darkness, he glared once more at the woman. I will get you for this. That was his last jumbled thought.

Daily Quote

Monday, February 8th, 2021