The Crowe’s Nest Tavern was located in a very fortuitous place. If you were condemned to hang in Execution Square, they were your last stop!
Everly Crowe along with her father and two sisters ran The Crowe’s Nest Tavern that was rumored to be slightly haunted, although Everly never believed in such foolishness….until she did.
John Beckett was a pirate, or not. Forced upon the account, he’d lost his belief in a lot of things before he caught the eye of a bonny serving lass who was fierce enough to go toe to boot with his captor and captain, Bartholomew Jacques.
Jacques held a note on the tavern and tormented Everly and her family as he terrorized all the small towns up and down the coast. But even his threats and deceit couldn’t keep Everly and John from promising themselves to each other, ‘till death they do part. After Jacques and his crew are captured and sent to the gallows, Everly learns that those fateful words have little meaning when love is forever.
Everly
Crowe removed the man’s dish from before him. If she’d not been the one to fill
his plate and serve him, she would have thought him unfed. Had he licked the
plate clean?
“Fer
a last meal, lass, t’was fit fer a king. Course, if I be a king, wouldn’t be
sittin’ here waiting te die.”
“I’m
glad you liked it.” Everly snuck a look at the pair of guards standing by the
door before producing a bottle from the folds of her skirts and topping off the
man’s mug. “Drink up. Time’s short,” she whispered.
“Most
sitting in your chair say the same.”
“I
swear.” He placed a hand over his heart. “I never touched the bastard.”
“Yer
fist prints were decorating his face.” She lifted a shoulder and shook her
head.
“That
dinna mean I killed ‘im.”
The
man they called Wembley drained his mug and pushed it back toward her, his eyes
pleading with her for a refill. She obliged, once more hiding the bottle out of
sight of the guards. “Fool tripped over his own buckles. Cracked his skull all
on his own.”
Everly
tipped her head toward the door. “They don’t believe that.”
“I’m
no saint. Found meself on the wrong side of things more than most. Maybe
hangin’ be just payment fer that, but I swear on my sweet mother’s life, I
dinna kill no one. Ya need ta believe me.” Wembley’s hand shook as he reached
for his drink. His voice dropped to a desperate whisper. “Need someone te
believe me.”
She
placed a hand on his shoulder. “I believe you. But it won’t change anything.”
“I
ken, I ken, but it means somethin’ te me.” He hung his head.
Everly
moved to stow his plate away behind the bar and traded the bottle she held for
another. Her father worked at the bung on a fresh hogshead of ale. He coughed
before shaking his head at her. “Don’t be buying his sob story.”
“The
man will be dead in half an hour. What difference does it make?”
Her
father jutted his chin in the direction of the bottle. “The difference tween a
shillin’ an’ a pound.”
“Take
it out of my wages.” Pulling the cork, she returned to the man’s table and sat
with him.
“Here.”
She splashed a healthy dose of fine French brandy into the man’s mug. “An
innocent man deserves to drink something better.”
“Maybe
I’m already hung, and yer a bloody angel.” He looked at her with glistening
eyes.
Everly
shook her head. “Heaven has cleaner floors.” She poured him some more
brandy.
“Hope
I don’t piss meself,” he mumbled into his cup.
“You
won’t know if you do.”
He
gave a quick bark of laughter. “Guess not.”
“You’ll
do fine. Men bigger and stronger than you’ve sat in that very same chair and
cried like babes.”
“Will
ye be watchin’?”
“No.”
She stood. “I’m not like that crowd out there. Don’t think watching a man die
is fit entertainment.”
“Shame.
Would like yer bonny face as the last thing I see.”
“That,
I can’t do.” Everly patted his shoulder. “I can just get you pissed enough, you
won’t care.” She added a last measure of brandy to his cup.
LISA A. OLECH is the author of both the contemporary and historical romance. She uses witty dialog with a side order of sexy to bring to life multi-faceted, adventurous, smoldering characters you’ll not soon forget.
A former member of RWA and NHRWA, Lisa is a 2018 RITA Award nominee for her book, Within A Captain’s Soul, the final book in her Captains of the Scarlet Night series. She’s won a variety of writing contests and achieved the ranks of Amazon Best Seller with her debut book in 2014.
As an author, artist, Justice of the Peace, and aspiring beekeeper, Lisa finds true inspiration in the beauty and love that surround her. And, she takes full credit that three homes on her quiet New England street now proudly fly a Jolly Roger from their flagpoles.
Find links to her books, social media, and much, much more at www.lisaolech.com.
