Dara Joy 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 He supposed he could get like that from time to time. During the physical act of love, he would try to touch something Something that was missing in him. On those rare occasions, when that fierceness came upon him, he had never been able to reach the core that he was seeking. Lady Thomlinson had turned out to be more than he had bargained for.
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Don ye best seafaring garb and come adventuring with us on the bounding main. There be grog aplenty just a waitin yoer roguish hide. Ye scalawag and rich booty to go around for the lot of ye! Iffen ye fancy the brethren life and all the tomfoolery a body can reasonably handle. Ye might even find a lusty romance fer yer trouble me heartie. Enquire at the turtle and peg tavern at port rogue. Ask for Hack, or Slash. We assure ye.
Posted by the crew of the Chameleon and by permission from that dreaded scourge, the Panther. Prologue I did not love him at first. And those were his good qualities.
Later, I would discover he was brash, arrogant, reckless, insanely wild, daring, and altogether lethal. What woman could resist such a wondrous package? And I say that with the utmost sincerity. Why, the scalawag was a walking blessing. He was everything BAD. Any acquaintance I had with such a scoundrel would surely not be to my benefit. So how, then, did a sheltered, innocent girl come into his sphere?
Well, my story is a complex one and I beg you who might chance upon these writings to bear with me and allow me the telling in the entire, for my life has been a strange and wondrous journey. The course of it, not by any means, mundane. These pages are my legacy, and the truth must be told— even if there is little chance this diary will be found. If you are to experience the breadth and scope of my story, I must begin the tale when I was young, immature, and full of vinegar.
The young and immature aspect would soon change. Alas, the vinegar is probably a lifelong affliction. You see, I was born a seeker of adventure. I do love a good laugh. Still, when the time came, I was blind to what would prove to be the greatest adventure of all. I had no clue upon meeting him that my life and the life of my closest companions would alter in ways I could never imagine.
But, I am getting ahead of myself. Let me start anew Eighteen powdered, perfumed, bewigged heads turned to the head of the table, attention riveted, as Lord Gingridge told of his encounter with the infamous, dreaded pirate, the Panther.
Scourge of the seven seas. One head, unpowdered, without a wig, but somewhat perfumed, continued to face the plate in front of it; its sweet confection apparently having more appeal to this guest than the current topic of conversation. And at the ends of those braids are bones He lowered his voice to a raspy whisper. Eighteen heads turned in unison to the source of said shriek. Lady Flumia— her sensibilities apparently damaged beyond repair by the very idea of either human bones or manly braids, fainted dead away in her chair.
Fulfilling on the promise it held all evening, her heaving chest spilled out of her low bodice exposing enormous pendulous breasts to the entire assemblage. The room went introspectively silent at the momentous display. It floated down and landed as gently as a feather upon mountain snow. All eighteen heads turned eagerly back to their host. Using the distraction to his advantage, Lord Gingridge quaffed down another glass of wine before continuing. They haunt me to this very day! Pale and bright at the same time!
Rimmed with lashes black as night. Noticing the disapproving expressions around her, she quickly converted to a coughing fit. Wine went down wrong. And unfortunately locked eyes with her uncle sitting across from her. His stern expression did not bode well. The mean little toad had become a complete tyrant these past two years. She sighed. Uncle Jediah was not afraid of bone waving, cat-eyed, phantom pirates.
Uncle Jediah was deathly afraid of losing control of her inheritance. Ginny would wager the toad had checked out every guest present before allowing her to attend. He always made sure there were no threats to his security. Her gaze traveled the table. No one under forty or unmarried except for Lord Henry and herself. Ginny and Henley exchanged horrified looks.
Lord Gingridge hiccupped into his empty cup. Gives me the shivers. She rather liked Sir Henley Henry. He often came to visit her, having the dubious distinction of being the only male allowed to darken her doorway. They were dear friends and distant cousins. Especially French opera. It was all Ginny could do to not collapse into laughter.
They set their grappling hooks to our ship, boarding her in a flash. The scurvy cutthroats swarmed the deck like a tide of locusts. The battle began and like the Devil himself, the Panther strode across the deck, right in the middle of the fray!
Fearing neither man, nor blade, he cut a path straight to the quarter deck. He lowered his voice to mimic the brazen pirate captain. And an eerie laugh it was. We all figured we were dead where we stood. Henley kicked her foot under the table. Well that is something to consider.
Lord Gingridge continued. Soon, the scalawags had stripped the ship completely clean. We could not believe our eyes when they set the charges.
They were going to sink her! As fast as that they set us all out on two small boats, Captain Stone yelling to the Panther that he would see him hang, and the Panther saluting him from the bow of his ship with a bottle of rum. Did he not have enough of a crew to take her in tow? Lord Gingridge shrugged his shoulders. We watched that black-sailed ship of his until it disappeared on the horizon. Ginny kicked his foot under the table. This Panther sounded more like a pussycat to Ginny.
Scared them all to death with his bone-waving hair and probably laughed his way home a much richer man. She was not impressed. She told Henley what she thought of this so-called panther.
There are stories of him that would curl your hair. Unperturbed, she addressed the room at large. Lady Flumia savored her juicy bombshell a moment before following up with her second, even juicier borage. Still attractive at the age of forty-one, the widow drew many an admirer. Her reputation in the boudoir was well-deserved. It was well known that ten years past when Lord Devon was just a youth of twenty, Lady Simmons had taken him to her bed. In fact, she had learned a few things herself.
Ginny had never met the infamous Lord Devon. Nor did she wish to. Indeed, he was the last person her uncle would allow her to come in contact with. A notorious rake and libertine, it seemed that all she ever heard at these gatherings was the scandal the man caused.
Moreover, it had been going on for some time.
REVIEW: Death by Ploot Ploot by Dara Joy
Don ye best seafaring garb and come adventuring with us on the bounding main. There be grog aplenty just a waitin yoer roguish hide. Ye scalawag and rich booty to go around for the lot of ye! Iffen ye fancy the brethren life and all the tomfoolery a body can reasonably handle. Ye might even find a lusty romance fer yer trouble me heartie.
DEATH BY PLOOT PLOOT PDF
Death by Ploot Ploot