The Swashbuckling Yarn of Milady Vixen by Christopher Newman Read Free Book Online

port to give you the king’s share?”
    “Port de Luna—do you know it?”
    “Aye, I do.”
    “How will your Navy know us to be friendly?”
    “I have a blue pennant that you must fly beneath your own flag.”
    “Then let us tug the beard of the King of Effingham.”
    “Madam, I cannot express my delight at your words.”
    The Marquis de Poste stuck out a perfumed hand, which she took.
    * * * *
    The ships had long since departed their separate ways. Sailing to the northeast, the Sea Fox prowled in search of the red lion flag of Effingham. The day proved uneventful, with the exception of the chance meeting with Marquis de Poste’s baited trap. Evening had fallen. Sitting at her desk, Vixen watched her second in command pace like a caged tiger in front of her.
    “You are mad!” Ginger Tom shouted at her.
    “Calm yourself, Tom,” she cooed.
    Striding around the captain’s quarters, his shoulders shaking with rage, the tall pirate admonished the woman seated in front of him. The bemused smile upon her face made him even more irate with each passing second.
    “Don’t ye strike that tone with me, young miss. I’ve had about as much of this farce as possible! The crew thinks you mad for taking on such a fool’s errand. Half of them have a bounty on their heads for just being a member of this vessel and are terrified by the prospect of dancing the hempen jig in some Effingham square! The other portion is convinced you have a death wish!”
    “We have, with this document, new ports to which we can sail without fear of attack. This will increase our booty and permit us free reign without looking past our stern for Gastonian men o’ wars.”
    “Ye only wish to wreak bloody havoc on Effingham! Damn the consequences and double damn the fate of those serving beneath you.”
    Vixen pouted at him. In the past, this expression would quell the fiery temperament in Ginger Tom, but she soon found he was no longer to be swayed by soft looks.
    “I am captain and my word is law!” she snarled. “Any Jack Tar who thinks he can do better is welcome to try my steel. Be it you or any other of the crew.”
    “I ought to take you over my knee and whip your behind,” he fired back.
    “Make any attempt at it and you’ll find yourself swinging from the mizzen mast or sporting a second mouth!”
    She rose to her impressive height. Instead of backing down, her first mate took a pair of steps and stood nose-to-nose with her. Lips writhing in anger, his blue eyes flashed with the same emotion coursing through his strong frame. Hands fell to sword hilts, flexing and trembling for the first sign of the other’s attempt to draw steel.
    “Ye are as stubborn as ye are beautiful,” he hissed.
    “’Tis one of my finest qualities,” she snorted.
    “You will have us all gripping Davy Jones’ hand soon enough with this insanity.”
    “Trust me, Tom.”
    “Trust? I cannot think of one reason for me to follow ye!”
    “You owe me your life.”
    He drew back as if slapped. The white teeth he bared ground in frustration to the point that Vixen thought he would shatter them. Tom’s back stiffened. He cut off his heated retort and crossed his arms in defeat. He was beaten but not bowed; she knew it as sure as her own feelings. The reminder of his debt seemed to soil the conversation.
    “As you wish, Cap’n,” Tom growled.
    He turned on his heel and stormed out without another word. For some reason, her comment began to sting her own feelings. The slamming of the door made her cut the thought off short, but it returned quickly enough to vex her for the rest of the long day.

Do Ye K’wanta Mutiny?
    Two weeks have passed since the marquis’ proposal, and yet Tom has slunk around me like some sulking child refusing to talk except for ship’s business, Vixen thought darkly, her hand on the wheel. Argh, I have impugned his honor, and yet he makes no move against me. Yet the same cannot be said about K’wanta! He has been preaching