To Seduce a Scallywag

By Heather C. Myers

Giselle Taylor is not a cow.

Yet, her parents plan to ship her off to a man who expects to breed with her like she is one. There's only one thing left to do: take her destiny into her own hands.

Perhaps she can't control her impending marriage, but she can control the state of herself when she does get married.

Enter Captain Jack Downey.

He buys her a drink at a seedy scrag and that's all it takes.

One night of passion and Giselle is ready to get married. But not to Jack Downey.

A year later, as the wedding date looms closer, Giselle receives news her grandfather died. Since law dictates he can't leave her an inheritance, he sends her on an adventure.

The problem?
Giselle can't decipher the maps and needs a ship to leave.

But Jack Downey may.

The problem?

He's in prison and if Giselle doesn't figure out a way to spring him free, he will hang.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heather C. Myers
• Release date: Oct 3, 2021

Heather C. Myers

Full disclosure: I am an acquired taste. I'm a typical blonde Orange County suburbanite who says 'like' more than necessary, laughs loud and probably obnoxiously, and loves to dance in the rain. I'm a 25 year old college graduate with more than a few tricks up my sleeve, and I also happen to be a pretty big Ducks fan. Oh, and I'm a writer. Like, for real.I recently signed with Anchor Group Publishing, which will see two of my series being published this year. I've self-published over 15 books, with more on the way, so I'm familiar with both a hybrid-traditional publishing method as well as self-publishing.I don't speak in third person (normally) nor do I wear glasses (except when I'm feeling particularly mischievous). I'm lucky to have found my soul mate at the ripe old age of 22, even though he frustrates me on purpose to get a reaction out of me. We live near Disneyland, have two rambunctious female puppies, and have a beautiful baby girl. He has two amazing boys, and has gotten me hooked on Smallville, watching soccer (okay, okay FOOTBALL - FC Barcelona, baby!), and Cancun Juice.

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Preface

Left to my own devices, I was usually well-behaved, the proper daughter my father had raised me to be. This time, however, something inside of me took over and I felt the dire need to be in control of something because it was quite obvious I wasn’t in control of my life or where it was going.

Despite the fact that many girls my age were brought up with the knowledge of the important duty they owed their families - an arranged marriage to a man highly-esteemed, respectable, and, of course, incredibly wealthy, I still had enduring hope that maybe one day I would fall in love and marry. Most girls grew out of such sentiments for numerous reasons, but I never did. I must admit that life would be much easier if I had; I wouldn’t care about the selection of potential husbands my father had lined up for me nor would I care when the act of marriage actually took place. But I did, however, and no matter how hard I tried, I simply couldn’t accept being auctioned off to the highest bidder like cattle.

The last time I checked, I was not a cow.

My father, a wealthy plantation owner, believed that my useless fancies were the cause of my beloved grandfather, my late mother’s father. And maybe that was true. My grandfather had come all the way from England to live with my father and me after my mother died when I was but five years of age. He always told me tales of romance and princesses, pirates and adventure, treasure hunts and romance, things I knew I would never experience in my lifetime. But that did not stop me from dreaming about such things, and my grandfather was the first to tell me that I could do whatever it was that I wanted, if only I worked hard for it and believed in it. He was also married for a time to my now deceased grandmother, but their love had been a love match, and if my grandfather could find love then I was certain I could too.

However, Port Royal did not seem to be the place to do it. I believed I had met every single eligible bachelor on this island, and was not satisfied by any of them. My father’s patience had grown weary, especially since I was now eighteen and practically on the verge of being an old maid. That wasn’t to say that I had a limited number of suitors; I admit that I had my fair share of them and I knew I should be lucky that I got to choose from a select pool just which one I was to settle down with.

I just wasn’t certain I was ready to marry and start a family in the first place quite yet, not when there were so many places to see, so many things to learn. I had many acquaintances who married when they were fifteen, sixteen years of age, had a number of children, and that was it. That was their life. Their husbands worked and maintained their share of wealth while the women cared for the children, bought dresses, and went to balls for the rest of their life. Love hadn’t even factored into the equation.

I didn’t want that. I wanted love, as ridiculous and impossible as it sounded. I tried to plead with my father to give me time to try and fall in love, but he was having none of it, and without even consulting me, arranged a married to a man named Timothy Fulton.

He shows great promise, my father had told me. He is in the Royal Navy, already advancing his career despite him being quite young, one-and-twenty in age. I found it quite odd how a man one-and-twenty was deemed young while a woman eighteen years of age was on the verge of becoming an old maid. He is in favor with his captain, is quite handsome, and is in want of a beautiful, wealthy wife. Luckily for us, he does not mind the fact that you are a bit older than what he had originally intended, which I am sure is a result of your beauty.

That, or my dowry.

I, of course, began to argue with him, furious that he made the most important decision of my life without consulting me at all. This earned me a slap on the face and another lecture about my duty I owed this family. If my grandfather had been here, I was sure he would have had stern words with my father for not only arranging my marriage – something my grandfather did not believe in – but for laying a hand on me. But he was away, back in England, taking care of some business.

I stewed in my chambers for the majority of the day, refusing to eat or to drink. By the time night fell, my anger at my father and at this faceless man who could not be bothered to ask for my hand himself was at a dangerous boiling point, and I needed to release it in some manner. Since I refused to even be in the same room as my father, I knew I could not go to him. Sleep would not come either, not with so much on my mind.

And then I realized that while I could not control what my father had done, I could control where I would go, what I could do, at least in that moment. I slipped out of bed and quickly dressed myself in a casual gown that required no corset. Instead of the usual slippers, I placed boots on my feet because I knew I would be walking for a while and did not want any painful blisters. Once I was finished getting ready, I walked over to my window and managed to climb out. After making sure that none of my father’s guards were anywhere nearby, I slipped onto an adjacent tree branch that managed to hold my weight and then slid downward, using the sturdy trunk to the best of my abilities. When I was younger, I climbed this tree quite frequently, but only when my father was not around.

I had no idea where I was heading, but with each step I took, it felt good to place distance between my father and me. Somehow, I ended up in town, and it was only then did I realize that my daring act of rebellion was nothing short of foolishness. Port Royal was synonymous with piracy, and it wasn’t unheard of to see wanted criminals gallivanting the streets in town, looking for alcohol and women. And I was a woman alone.

Maybe I should…

But I stopped myself. Pressing my lips together, I decided to continue on. I would stay at one of the taverns here, only for a moment or two, and sneak back into my room. That was all I needed to do. That would be my form of rebellion.

But things never went according to plan, did they?

The first tavern I went into was named The Fancy though there was nothing fancy about it. It was dull, dank, and filled with people who didn’t have any inclination to better their hygiene. However, one good facet of this particular tavern was that because there were so many people inside drinking to their heart’s content and flirting shamelessly with the town’s whore, nobody noticed me slip inside. I was anonymous. And in that way, I was free.

The feeling made my otherwise tense body relax a fraction, and I managed to find an empty table in the back of the tavern. I had no currency on me, so when a bar wench asked for my order, I politely declined wanting anything.

Get the lass a rum, a slurred, low voice said from behind me. And I’ll be having another one as well.

The bar wench glanced over at the man who had spoken and curtsied quickly, showing her assent, before disappearing back into the crowd.

I turned my head to look at him, to tell him that that would not be necessary, I did not drink anything really, but once my eyes locked on him, I found that I was having difficulty with speaking. In my limited experience with the male species, I had known and encountered a good deal of handsome men. However, this was the first time I found a handsome man having an effect on me. I was attracted to him immediately, I realized, even though from his dirty clothes, his worn boots, his deep tan, that he had to be a seaman, maybe even a pirate.

His lips curled up into a smirk when he realized just how he was affecting me, and before I could stop him, he stood up and took a seat in the vacant chair across from me.

’ello darling, he said, his dark blue eyes seeping into my own, as though he could see through me, realize what I was doing. I’ve never seen the likes of you here before.

Though he didn’t look it, he sounded as though he was educated.

Yes, well, I said, looking down at the tabletop and realizing that the people weren’t the only things dirty in the place, I’ve never been here before.

At that moment, the drinks came and the man placed a few coins in the bar wench’s hand before she sauntered off once more, leaving me alone with a man who looked at me with… Well, I wasn’t sure just what his eyes were saying in that moment. The only way I could describe it was that it resembled hunger, but I didn’t think it had anything to do with food.

You are probably the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life, he said before taking a long gulp of the amber liquid.

I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes if I had tried. It wasn’t that I couldn’t appreciate compliments, it was just that I had heard many before, and not one was ever sincere. He smiled at this, I noticed, and I didn’t understand why.

Do you not believe me? he asked.

I am certain that you believe it in this moment, I told him, looking at him with a lazy stare. Up until you find the next girl you find much more attractive than you find me, and you tell her the exact words you have just spoken to me.

I daresay that such a thing would be impossible, he said, the mischief in his eyes matching the mischief in his voice. I have sailed all over the Spanish Main and not one woman I have encountered could match the spectacle that is you. And trust me, I have met many women. I felt my face blush despite myself and I had to look away. He smiled even deeper at my reaction and slid my pint of rum even closer to me. Aren’t you going to drink your rum?

What is your name? I asked, taking a tentative sip. The liquid was warm and burned my throat.

Jonathon Downey, he replied, amused at the face I pulled at my introduction to rum. Though some know me as Jack Downey.

The pirate. The very infamous pirate the English, Spanish, and even the French were looking for.

And you? he asked, perking his brow slightly.

Giselle Taylor, I replied. He seemed to know me because his face looked as surprised as mine had upon hearing just who he was.

But in that moment, we were just two people, two strangers, in a tavern, drinking rum together.

I wished I could blame the fact that his lips were on mine, that we were in a small bedroom located above the tavern and clearly unsupervised, and that his shirt was lying in a pile on the floor, or the fact that I had gotten inebriated due to extensive drinking of rum. But I had only two, maybe three sips of the vile drink. My current environment was of my own choosing.

I had no previous experience with kissing, but I had an ample instructor who had no qualms in enhancing my technique. To be completely honest, I knew that what I was doing was highly immature, but at that particular moment, I did not care. Considering that my father had signed my life away to a man I did not even know, I found that it didn’t exactly matter just who I gave myself to. And at least this way, I could choose to do so at my own discretion.

His body pressed against mine, and as we fell against the small bed, his arm wrapped around my waist to ensure it took the brunt of the descent. His fingers nimbly untied the lace that I had wrapped around my waist while my hands were free to explore his finely toned chest. My fingers swept over his abdomen and he shuddered; in that moment, I felt how powerful a woman could truly be, making an experienced man react in such a vulnerable way. My eyes took into account every scar, every bullet wound, every tattoo he had on his person, and while imperfections might have scared off any other woman in my rank, I was only encouraged by it.

He was someone my father would have hated and I was someone who he would never normally have in this manner. We were both using each other for selfish purposes, and neither of us minded.

His tongue teased my lips until I opened my mouth willingly, and as he explored, his hands slid underneath my gown, caressing the inside of my thighs until they reached a place where they most certainly shouldn’t be. His calloused fingertips on my most sacred part caused me to gasp; from pleasure or from fright, I didn’t know. I thought maybe it was both.

You’ve never done this before, have you? he asked me, his brown eyes probing mine once more.

I didn’t know what to say. If I said yes, he might know that I was lying, and might expect me to do things I didn’t know about. But if I told him no, he might leave, knowing I couldn’t please him in the way he was probably used to. I didn’t want him to go. I needed to do this. It was the very last thing I could control, and I wanted to see it through.

No, I said, my voice breathless.

He looked at me for what seemed like a very long time, and I was afraid that he was going to go, to leave me in such a different state that I had never been in. But he smiled slowly and bent his head, kissing me softly on the lips.

Don’t worry, love, he said, his voice filled with promise. I’ll take care of you. Just relax.

I tried to do as he bid me to do, but I was so afraid I was doing this wrong, that I would be a disappointment, that I wouldn’t be up to par that I couldn’t concentrate on his nimble fingers brushing my folds. He was patient with me, however, and continued to go slowly up until the point my head clouded over and the only thing I could think about were his fingers and the buildup of tension until I couldn’t take it anymore and released everything. My mouth came in contact with his shoulder which muffled the majority of my moaning, and he didn’t stop until he was certain I had finished.

So that was what pleasure felt like. My acquaintances had never mentioned that before. Maybe they didn’t experience it.

It wasn’t long before our clothes were both shed, somewhere scattered on the floor. I didn’t care. I was too consumed in Jonathon Downey, in what he was doing to my body. He taught me what pleased him, where he liked to be kissed, to be touched. He spent an awful lot of time paying my breasts attention with both his hands and his mouth, and in that moment, I truly believed his words, that I really was beautiful. It didn’t even matter if he found someone else after this much more beautiful than I because of what he made me feel in that moment.

But I knew there was more to it than just kissing and caressing. And soon, Jack climbed on top of me, making sure that the majority of his weight was in his hands rather than on top of me. I was sure that as he looked down at my face he could see I was still hesitant, but I needed to see this through. And so to reassure him, to reassure myself, I nodded and he smiled.

It took him a moment to slide inside of me, and I couldn’t lie – it really did hurt. My fingers clutched his back and tears escaped my face, but he kissed them away, waiting until I got used to the sensation. I honestly believed that would never happen, but after a long moment, my body relaxed. Soon, he was moving inside me, pushing deep and pulling out. My eyes closed on their own accord, and it felt brilliant to be where I was right now. I pulled him closer to me, begging him not to stop. I needed to hold onto this feeling as long as I could knowing that soon, we would both leave, probably never to see each other again.

And before I knew it, we were panting, shaking, clutching to each other as our bodies released a climax. When we finished, he didn’t immediately let me go. Instead, he pulled me to him, his body slick with perspiration, whispering things in my ear. But our moment was soon over. We both had to leave.

He was dressed first, and before he left, he bent down and kissed me. This kiss chaste, tender rather than passionate. It was an honor, he murmured against my lips, and then he vanished.

It took me longer to get ready because I had to clean myself up, but before long I was ready. Well, almost ready. I couldn’t find that lace that had been tied around my waist. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find it. I had no choice but to leave without it.

As I walked back home, I couldn’t help but smile. This was a secret, my secret, that no one else would know but me and Jack Downey. I just hoped that when I returned, nobody had noticed my timely absence and my secret could stay a secret.

1

Iwas sitting on a cushy seat just next to my window, my knees pulled up to my chest, the side of my face resting on my knees. I had a beautiful view of the docks at Port Royal, but it wasn’t the bustling harbor my gaze was fixated on. No, it was the sea. The horizon. Even though I just received word not two days ago, I was still hoping that it was a dream, that my grandfather’s ship would soon make her grand appearance informing the entire town that he was returning to me.

But he was not.

Apparently, he was stricken with yellow fever even before reaching England, but managed to hold on long enough in order to die in the home he had shared with my grandmother before moving in with Father and I. I suppose that was something to be grateful for, but selfishly, I wished it hadn’t happened in the first place. He was the only person I could rely on, whom I could trust, and he had left me too.

Normally, I wasn’t the type of girl to feel sorry for myself, but this news… I thought a heart could break only when it was romantically entangled, but I found the heart could break with any sort of love. And because I had been ill-prepared of such a fact, it hurt all the more. My mother’s death was nothing compared to this, and while thinking that might not make me the most selfless person, I hadn’t really known her the way I knew my grandfather.

It also did not help that just the day before, my father had received news that Timothy Fulton, my betrothed, was returning from a two-year stint at sea in order to marry me before heading off with the Royal Navy once more. This meant that I would be required to smile and be merry about the prospect of achieving what every small girl had been dreaming of her entire life when all I wanted was to curl up in a ball on my grandfather’s bed and stay there until his scent faded from the sheets.

I could not even do that. At this very moment, my father had ordered the servants to clean out my