A Pirate's Love (22 page)

A
fter a long two and a half months of absence, Tristan could hardly contain his excitement when his island was sighted. He had been a fool to leave Bettina just when he had learned she was carrying his child. He had missed her so. She would be four and a half months pregnant now, but he prayed she wouldn't be too big to make love to.

Tristan paced nervously across the foredeck until his ship sailed into the small cove and the anchor was dropped. Then in a loud, booming voice, he informed the crew that they could take their leave immediately. He would order the men who had stayed on the island to come and secure the ship. If the men on board were as anxious to see their women as he was to see Bettina, he might have had a mutiny if he had delayed them on the ship.

Father Hadrian stood by idly, watching the men hastily lowering the small boats. He wondered if he should speak to the captain about keeping these men from their so-called wives until after the marriage ceremonies. But seeing the happy anticipation on the faces of the crew, he doubted they would listen to reason.

No, he would just have to close his eyes and pray that the ceremonies took place quickly. Besides, Captain Tristan would offer no help. The priest had been told about the Frenchwoman the captain was keeping on the island, and the young man had made it quite clear to Father Hadrian that he would tolerate no moralizing about his way of life. He thought it absurd that some of his men wanted to marry when they didn't have to, and he had no intention of marrying his lady.

In less than twenty minutes, the boats were ashore, and after another ten minutes of half-walking, half-running, Tristan stood just inside the doorway of his house, completely amazed at the changes.

“It looks as if the women kept busy while we were gone,” Jules said when he came up beside Tristan. “I must say it is a definite improvement. They've turned this old fortress into a home. And look, they've even hung curtains!”

Tristan glanced at the white curtains and smiled. At least Bettina hadn't made a wedding dress with the material, as she had wanted.

Tristan laughed as his crew made a terrible racket running past the house on the way to their homes. The shouting and laughter brought Maloma to the top of the stairs, and Tristan stared openmouthed when he saw how big she had grown. They had never stayed home long enough before to see the women grow with child, and he prayed again that Bettina wasn't that big yet. But he wondered why she didn't appear.

“I will see you later, Tristan—much later,” Jules said over his shoulder as he started for the stairs.

Tristan smiled as he watched Jules join his wife. Davey volunteered to take Father Hadrian to the vil
lage, where he had asked to stay, and Tristan was relieved that the good father would not be sleeping in the room next to his.

Tristan started to walk toward the stairs, then began to run.

“
Capitaine
, she is not in your room.”

Tristan halted abruptly and swung around to see Jossel standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He walked to her, scowling, imagining the worst of possibilities.

“Where is she?” he demanded brusquely.

“There is no reason for you to be upset. Bettina went for a walk—as she does every afternoon,” Jossel said calmly.

“Where?”

“I have no idea in which direction she goes. She always walks alone.”

“It's good to see you back, Cap'n,” Joco Martel said when he came from the back of the house. “Was your voyage successful?”

“No, but I left you in charge here, Joco, and I'll have your hide if you can't tell me where Bettina is right now!” Tristan bellowed.

“She's in the forest, Cap'n,” Joco replied weakly. “She always goes the same way, leavin' the path where it turns toward the village.”

“Straight or to the right?”

“Straight.”

“And now tell me why in blazes you've let her go into the forest alone?”

“You trusted 'er before you left, Cap'n, and she 'ad a fit when I tol' 'er she should 'ave someone with 'er. She insisted on goin' alone, and I didn't really see no 'arm in it,” Joco answered nervously.

“Blast it! That woman has no right to insist upon
anything. I gave you instructions when I left. You were to carry out
my
orders, not hers!” Tristan stormed.

“My daughter is no longer a child,
Capitaine
. She can take care of herself. And she has always cherished her privacy. In France, she always took walks through the countryside alone,” Jossel said.

“This is not France,
madame!
There are wild pigs living at the foot of the mountain. If Bettina walked too far, she could be attacked and killed!”

“Killed!” Jossel turned pale.

“She was never gone long enough to reach the mountain, or I would 'ave gone after 'er,” Joco said quickly.

“How long has she been gone?”

“Only an hour,” Joco replied.

Tristan said no more, but left the house by the back door. Running, it took him only a few minutes to reach the bend in the path. As he left the path and followed the trail of trampled grass that led toward the mountain, he wondered if Bettina had found the same shallow pool that he used to come to. If that was where she went on her walks, he could understand her wish for privacy.

When Tristan saw that the trail indeed led to the stream, he slowed his pace and decided to surprise Bettina. But when he came to the trees bordering the stream, he was the one who was surprised. Bettina was lying on the soft grass beside the pool, completely at ease, and completely naked.

The blood rushed through his veins as Tristan's eyes covered her entirely. Her whole body was a golden tan. She lay on her back with the sun caressing her, one leg raised, her hands clasped behind her head, and her damp hair spread on the grass
above her. Tristan stared for long moments at her slightly protruding belly and the plaguing doubts surfaced again. A child slept there, but whose child? But Tristan pushed the thoughts of the child from his mind, for the throbbing in his loins was the only thing that mattered now.

“Tristan!” Bettina gasped when she opened her eyes to find him standing above her.

She stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, unable to say anything. She felt desire rise in her, almost like an ache. He stood, legs astride, with his hands on his hips. The sun lit the edges of his hair to liquid gold, and she wanted to run her hands through it, to touch his bronzed cheeks, to taste his lips on hers.

Bettina watched with anticipation as Tristan removed his shirt, then his knee-length boots and breeches. But when he was naked, and she saw the look of triumph on his face as he bent down to her, she finally broke out of her trance. She quickly rolled out of his reach and grabbed her dress to hide her nakedness, then scrambled to her feet, holding the dress in front of her.

Tristan laughed heartily. “It took you long enough to remember that you hate me. But then, you don't really hate me, do you, Bettina? Why don't you give in to what you were feeling a moment ago?”

Oh, God, why had she stared at him so long? He must have seen the desire in her eyes.

“I don't know what you are talking about!” she retorted. Her cheeks were bright pink, but she was in control now.

“Yes, you do, little one,” he said huskily and started to approach her.

“Tristan, stop!” she screamed, backing away from him. “Come no closer to me!”

“I'm going to make love to you, Bettina, and you know it. You want it. So why don't you give up this pretense?” he asked softly.

“You are mad!” she cried fearfully. “If I wanted you to touch me, would I ask you to stay away? I still hate you, Tristan—have no doubts about that.”

“You're lying, Bettina, especially to yourself,” Tristan said quietly. He leaped forward and grabbed her about the waist.

“Tristan, please!” she begged as he pulled her to the shade and lowered her to the ground. “If you make me fight you, it will harm the baby!”

He mounted her despite her pleading, and held her arms stretched out at her sides as he leaned over her. “You're not going to fight me, little one. I have thought of this moment every day I was away from you, and you know there is nothing that will stop me from having you now.” He released her arms and leaned on his elbows, careful not to press his full weight on her. He held her face with his hands and kissed her softly, then smiled lazily at her. “You will have to give up your resistance for a while, for the baby's sake. The child will give you an excuse not to fight me, so relax and enjoy it while you can.”

“But I do not want an excuse! Why don't
you
take the excuse and find another to force yourself upon?” Bettina asked heatedly.

“It's you I want—and it's you I'll have. You don't want to fight me, Bettina. It's only your pride that makes you continue to do so.”

“That is not so!” she cried indignantly.

“Why must you be so stubborn?” he asked in exasperation. “You have a reason now to give up—
without losing your pride. For God's sake, I won't taunt you for it!”

“No!”

Tristan kissed her passionately then, stopping her mouth. He entered her, burying himself deep inside her. He felt her nails begin to dig into his back, and he tensed, waiting for pain. But then she ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his back. The fires that were always between them grew, and as the pleasure exploded inside Tristan, she kissed him intensely, sending him to heights that he could reach only with this woman.

When Tristan rolled to her side and lay on the grass beside her, Bettina sat up and clasped her knees, her hair covering her body like a white silk cape. She stared moodily at the little waterfall.

“I've missed you, Bettina,” Tristan said softly from behind her. He moved her hair aside and caressed her back. “I've thought about you constantly—every day, and especially at night, when I would lay in my cabin remembering how we shared it.”

“I am sure when you went ashore you found suitable companions to relieve your misery,” she replied sarcastically.

“You sound jealous, little one,” Tristan laughed.

“That is absurd!” she bit off angrily, turning toward him. “I have told you time and again to find another.”

“That's easy enough to say, even when you don't mean it. Consider your true feelings, Bettina. You've missed me, too, haven't you?”

“Of course not. How could I miss you when I prayed that you would never return. And why did you return so soon? Did you find Don Miguel?”

“No, I've decided to wait some time before I continue the search.”

“How much time?” she asked.

“These last months that I've been away from you have seemed like an eternity. I've decided to stay here until the year you promised me comes to an end.”

“But—but you cannot!” she cried. “When I gave you my word that I would stay here for a year, it was only because you said you wouldn't be here the whole time.”

“And I haven't been. You already had two and a half months alone, and that is enough.”

“Then I suppose I must be thankful that I am with child, because it will free me from your advances when my time grows near. Then you will
have
to find another,” she replied tartly, standing up to dress.

Tristan frowned at her words as he reached for his own garments. What if the child were born with black hair? Worse, what if the child were graced with Bettina's white-blond hair and dark eyes? Then he would never know the truth.

“You look troubled,
Capitaine
,” Bettina teased him as she bent to pick a bouquet of violet flowers. “Are you finding it difficult to decide who will replace me?”

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes falling to her waist. Now that she was dressed, her shape looked the same as when he left her.

“I saw Maloma at the house,” Tristan remarked, ignoring her question. “She has grown quite large already, and yet you have changed very little. Are you sure that it's four and a half months that you've carried the child?”

Bettina laughed gaily, her eyes sparkling blue.
“You would like to believe that, wouldn't you? Then you would have no doubt that the child is yours. Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, Tristan, but my calculations are correct. Now, if you do not mind, I am going to return to the house.”

He grabbed her arms as she started to pass him, making her drop the flowers she held. “But you say the child is mine?” he demanded.

“I have told you it is.”

“You said you lied about de Lambert, but in truth you could be lying now.”

“Believe what you like, Tristan. I told you before that it doesn't matter.”

“But it does matter!” His voice rose to a high pitch, and his hands tightened on her arms. “For the love of God, Bettina! I can't stand this doubt anymore. Swear to me that the child is mine!”

There was pain mixed with rage in his eyes, and Bettina felt a strong desire to see the relief on his face that only she could give. But then she remembered why she had planted the doubt in his mind to begin with. She had hoped to make him suffer, and he was suffering. She would not remove the doubt and give him peace of mind. This was a satisfactory revenge for all the misery he had caused her.

“Every time I gave you my word, Tristan, it was because you left me no choice to do otherwise. But I have a choice now, and I choose not to give you my word on this. I told you the child is yours—that is enough.”

“Damn you, woman!” he stormed, his eyes turning to icy crystals. “If you won't swear to it, it is because you can't do so! The child must be de Lambert's!”

“Believe what you like,” Bettina whispered. Her
heart beat so loudly she felt sure he would hear it.

Tristan lifted his hand to strike her, but then he shoved her away from him.