A Pirate's Love (6 page)

W
hat Tristan witnessed when he staggered from his cabin brought instant clarity to his jumbled thoughts, and his familiar bellow could be heard in every corner of the ship.

“Hold!”

Jules was stopped barely in time, and he turned to see Tristan coming toward him, holding one hand to his aching head.

“Mother of God! Have you gone mad, Jules,” Tristan asked when he reached them, an angry scowl on his face at the sight of Bettina's bared back.

“God's truth, Tristan, I have never been more pleased to see you! Davey, that fool of fools, said you were dead—that the wench killed you!”

Tristan grinned now, but only slightly, for his head was throbbing painfully. “Didn't it occur to you, old friend, to check for yourself? If you had done so, you would have found that the vixen merely rendered me unconscious. Thank God I came to in time! There would have been hell to pay had you marred that lovely back, for I'm not finished with this hellcat yet!” He turned to Davey. “Untie her! And the next time you pronounce a man dead,
make sure that he is. Had the lady come to harm, Davey, you would have received the same punishment that my good friend here was going to give her.”

“Aye, Cap'n,” Davey replied weakly.

When Bettina was released, Tristan lifted her limp body in his arms and looked down at her serene face. She would not be so still if she were awake, he mused thoughtfully.

“Tristan, you can't mean to keep her in your cabin after what she has done. You vowed to be careful, and yet she got the better of you. I warned you that women don't fight as men do. Next time, she may succeed in killing you,” Jules said worriedly.

“Aye, she has vowed to do just that. I underestimated this one. I compared her to the meek, timid ladies I have known in the past. But I won't make that mistake again.”

“What will you do, tie her up at night, or let her cut your throat while you sleep?” Jules asked.

“I don't think she will try to kill me again, at least not while she's on my ship. She had the chance to end my life when I was unconscious and at her mercy—but she didn't.”

“No, because she thought you were dead already!”

“How do you know that?”

“When I told her I would take her life for taking yours, she only begged me to shoot her instead of using the whip on her.”

“Very well, so she thought she had accomplished what she set out to do. But she has learned now what the consequences would be. Thanks to you, old friend, I know that she has a deathly fear of the whip. Didn't she faint before you laid one stroke?”

“Aye.”

“Well, that's just the kind of information I need to put her where I want her.”

“You underestimated her once, Tristan. Don't do it again. I love you as a son—as a brother. Don't make a mistake with this wench.”

“She intrigues me, Jules. It would give me great pleasure to tame this particular lady.”

“Lady! That vixen is no lady!”

“Aye, she is a lady, gently reared. Where the hellcat part comes from is a mystery I would like to solve. She has a devil of a temper. Now find something for my head, for it's pounding like native drums. And get those men back to work.”

Tristan made his way back to his cabin with Bettina still sleeping in his arms. He laid her gently on his bed, then stood looking down at her for a few moments.

Would she awaken still frightened, or with renewed fury at finding him alive? He hoped for the fury. He wouldn't care to see this beauty cower before any man, not even himself. He would enjoy trying to break her in what little time he would have her, but somehow he knew that Bettina Verlaine could not be broken, not as long as there was life in her. She could be made to submit to him, but no one could break her will.

Jules came into the room and surveyed the damaged instruments on the floor with a shake of his head. He picked up the two tankards, brought them to the table, and filled them with wine, wishing for something stronger.

Madeleine appeared in the doorway and looked anxiously from the captain to her charge lying in his bed, then back to the captain again. Jules cleared his throat and beckoned her to enter.

“She said she is learned in ways of healing. I didn't think you would mind having her tend to your wound. Her hands are delicate compared to my clumsy ones,” Jules said to Tristan, who had sat down by the table.

“Very well, as long as this one doesn't wish to cut my throat, too.”

“That I would like to do,
monsieur
, but I will not,” Madeleine replied.

Tristan chuckled softly. “At least you are honest, old woman. What is your name?”

“Madeleine Daudet.”

“Well, Madeleine, did you witness what almost happened to your lady?” Tristan asked quietly.

“Yes,
monsieur
. I came on deck just before—before she fainted.”

“It is fortunate for her that you didn't cry out,” Tristan remarked, noting the woman's swollen lip that she had bitten to still her screams. “Had you done so, Jules wouldn't have heard me stop the whipping, and Bettina would have received at least two lashes before I could have reached her.”

“Thank God you awoke when you did,
monsieur
,” Madeleine said. She bent over him and began to clean the wound.

“Then you know why my friend here was going to whip Bettina—in fact, to whip her to death?”

“Yes, because the crew thought she had killed you. I tried to dissuade Bettina from trying to do you harm, but she would not listen to me. Bettina has always been headstrong and determined, but never so much as today.”

Tristan laughed, and glanced at the senseless girl in his bed. Then he turned back to Madeleine, his brows knitted in thought.

“Tell me about her. Where does this furious temper of hers come from? I would expect as much from a street whore or a barmaid, but not a lady.”

“She is a lady,
monsieur
,” Madeleine replied indignantly. “But as a child she was denied what she most wanted—her papa's love. This led to bursts of temper and defiance, and her papa sent her to a convent. She spent most of her life there.”

“Was she to be a nun?”

“No, it was a school for girls.”

“And what did she learn at this convent—how to pray?” he asked, with humor in his voice.

“Of course she learned of God and His ways, but she was also taught to read and write, to tend the sick and wounded, to be gentle and loving, to control her—” She stopped, realizing how ridiculous it would be to finish.

Tristan laughed softly. “You were going to say temper, were you not? So Bettina wasn't a very good student, eh?”

“She was an excellent pupil,” Madeleine said in defense of Bettina. “It is just that when she feels intensely about something, she is blind to everything else. But I have not seen that happen since she was a child. It was only her papa who could make her temper rise, but when she came home from school, she was able to control her emotions. In fact,
monsieur
, I have never seen her so angry as she was today. Bettina is kind and gentle by nature, just like her mama. When she finally gave up trying to win the love of her papa, she was quite happy with life. Just her smile can make others feel as she does.”

“I have yet to see this smile or this kind and gentle nature,” Tristan remarked.

“You alone would know why,
Capitaine
. You have—have—”

“Dishonored her? Yes, so I've been told.”

“You should not have touched her!” Madeleine snapped angrily. “You had no right. But since you were determined to have her, it would have been better if you had not tricked her. She accepted her fate until she learned you had deceived her.”

“I only wanted to avoid hurting her,
madame
. But tell me, does she want to marry this
comte?
Is she in love with him?” Tristan asked.

“Her papa arranged the marriage. Bettina had no say in the matter, but she must do what is expected of her. She knows this. As for love, you cannot love a man you have never seen.”

“So she doesn't even know what her betrothed looks like. Would I be safe in saying that I might be delivering her to some fat old goat whom she would prefer not to marry?”

“No,
Capitaine
,” Madeleine smiled. “The Comte de Lambert is young and handsome. I have seen him.”

For some reason, this bothered Tristan. “Enough of this now,” he said. “I need some quiet to rid me of this headache. See to the ship, Jules. If you need me, I'll be here—ah, resting.”

“Resting! If you want rest, you had better hope the wench doesn't wake.”

Jules chuckled at his own words, then escorted Madeleine to the galley, where she should have gone to begin with. If she had done as Jules had instructed her, none of this would have happened, Tristan mused, and Bettina would still believe his lie. But there was no point in thinking about that now.

Tristan poured more of the wine into his tankard,
leaned back in the chair, and fixed his gaze on Bettina. It would not take very long to reach Saint Martin, probably less than a week if the winds were favorable. That wouldn't give him very much time to enjoy this beauty. In all his twenty-six years, he had never met a woman as beautiful as Bettina Verlaine, nor one with such a maddening temper.

B
ettina's eyes fluttered open slowly, then widened to enormous dimensions when she remembered everything that had happened. She sat up quickly and arched her back, but she could feel no pain, just a slight draft on her bare flesh. What had happened? Why was she still alive?

She trembled violently for a moment, remembering the awful sound of the whip cracking in the air. My God! How had she possibly escaped that horrible death? She must have fainted. Were they just waiting for her to awaken before continuing? She had never anticipated that they would whip her to death for killing the captain. She could endure anything—yes, anything—except that excruciating torture.

Why did I have to kill him? she thought miserably, covering her face with her hands. I would only have had to endure a short time with the
capitaine
; then I would have been free—free to enjoy a long life. It would not have taken too long to forget about this experience, to be happy once again. Why did I jeopardize my whole life just for revenge? After all, the man
was
a pirate. I should have expected no more than deceit and lies from him. Bettina moaned
softly in her misery. What was going to happen now? Was the first officer preparing an even more terrifying death for her? She must escape this cabin, she decided. She would jump ship and end her life in the sea. She could swim, but being so far from land, exhaustion or sharks would soon claim her. Not exactly the way she would choose to die, but a kinder death by far than the lash.

Without a second thought, Bettina pulled her legs over the side of the narrow bed and stood up. Then she froze, and a small gasp escaped her soft lips. He must be a ghost, was her first thought. But as she stared fearfully at him, she saw that his eyes were gleaming with merriment, with devilry. His eyes were clear, clear as the bright sky—hardly the eyes of a dead man.

The blood rushed to her face. She had failed! He was alive, and that was why she was here, unharmed. He had been watching her without speaking since she awoke, letting her suffer with doubt and anxiety. Now he sat there facing her, his legs spread out before him, holding a tankard of wine on his hard, flat middle. He was smiling. Smiling!

Bettina stiffened as rage filled her. “You!” she managed to scream at him. “You should be dead! But I will yet succeed, Tristan!”

“Do you really long to feel the lash across your tender flesh, Bettina?” he asked quietly. He set the tankard back on the table.

She paled visibly. Hadn't she just asked herself why she had killed him? He was not worth that kind of death.

“I would know the answer, Bettina,” Tristan said more loudly. “Are you willing to go through what
would have happened to you had I not come awake in time to stop it?”

Her eyes were dark and fiery emeralds, caressing him with her hatred. There were other ways to take revenge, and she would find one. But she would wait until she was safe.

“Answer me, blast it!” He slammed his huge fist on the table, making her jump.

“I have no wish to feel the lash, as you must know!” she said heatedly.

He smiled at her reply. “Then I can be safe in sharing my cabin with you?”

“I do not want to stay here! Surely you don't wish to keep me after what I attempted.”

“On the contrary, little one, I will enjoy your company.” He chuckled wickedly.

“Then you will be safe from death,
monsieur
, but not from harm!” she retorted angrily.

“I think not, Bettina. Do you see this?” He picked up the coiled whip he had placed on the table earlier. “I am not opposed to using it.”

“You wouldn't!”

“Do you doubt it? Would you like a demonstration?”

“I am not your slave,
monsieur
. I will not obey you!” Bettina replied furiously.

“Won't you? Come here, Bettina,” he commanded, clearly enjoying the game.

“No, no, no!” She stamped her foot in defiance. “I will not come near—”

Before she could say more, the coiled leather sailed through the air and bit into the thick folds of her velvet skirt. Bettina jumped, and stared stupidly at the long slash that revealed the white material of her shift beneath the velvet. She looked up at Tristan
slowly, her eyes wide and filled with terror. Did he miss touching her skin on purpose, or was his aim bad? She would not tempt him to try again.

Gathering her courage, Bettina moved to stand before him. “What do you wish,
monsieur?
” she asked haughtily.

He burst out laughing. “What I want can wait. Are you hungry?”

She nodded reluctantly, and for the first time noticed the platter of food at the far end of the table. She was famished.

Walking past him to the other chair, Bettina sat down and started to eat. After a few moments, she looked up slowly and saw that Tristan was still watching her intently, an amused expression on his bearded face.

“Is it all right if I eat,
monsieur
, or do you wish to starve me?” she asked sarcastically.

He frowned. “Eat your fill, and then you will find out what I wish to do.”

Bettina ate with deliberate slowness, irritating Tristan further. But if she could annoy him in any way, any way whatsoever, then she would do so. Just as long as she could get away with it.

As she continued eating, she noticed that candles had been lit in the room, and that it was dark outside the small window at the foot of the bed. Well, now that night had fallen, she could at least insist that it be dark in the room if he was going to rape her again. She couldn't bear the indignity of him staring at her unclad body as he had earlier. She wondered briefly where she would sleep, for no doubt the beast would not give up his bed when he finished with her. But what was she thinking about? She would not let him rape her again.

“Finish your meal now, Bettina, or you can go without it, for I'm tired of waiting.”

“Waiting for what,
monsieur?
” Bettina feigned innocence. “You raped me once. Surely you do not intend to do so twice in the same day?”

His devilish grin was her answer. Bettina jumped up and ran for the door, but the crack of the whip in the air halted her.

“Come here, Bettina!”

She felt panic rising in her again, but fear of what he might do made her obey. She turned and walked toward him slowly. When she reached him, he took her hand and pulled her closer until she stood between his knees. Then, without warning, Tristan reached up, grabbed her dress at the shoulders, and yanked it down to her waist.

Bettina gasped and drew back her hand to strike him, but he caught both her hands and twisted them behind her back, bringing her unclad breasts close to his face.

“You are hurting me!” she cried, trying to pull free.

“Don't you want to hurt me?” he asked, but he released her arms. “I know that you wish to fight me, Bettina, but know now that I will not allow it. For every time you strike me, you will receive ten lashes. For the slightest resistance, you will receive five lashes. Do you understand me?”

Damn him! Again he would deny her the satisfaction of opposing him. If she was to be raped, why couldn't she at least fight for her honor like other women? But he would not allow her to. It was unbearable, for she would have to submit to this man as if she were willing.

“Will you fight me, Bettina?” he asked her qui
etly, his soft blue eyes looking into her deep green ones.

“You must fear that you are no match for me if you have to threaten me to ensure your own safety. Are you afraid of me,
Capitaine
, because I was able to best you this afternoon?” she asked sarcastically, pleased to note the narrowing of his eyes. “What would your crew think if they knew you couldn't handle a mere girl?”

“Your ploy has not worked, Bettina, though it was a good try. When I can avoid conflict, I do so. I avoid possible injuries and pain, and leave room only for pleasure.”

“And what of the anguish of my mind? I would rather suffer a bruised and swollen face, even broken bones, than let you rape me without resistance. It is you who are afraid of the injuries that I might inflict on you if you were to remove your threats.”

“Again a good try, little one, but the threats will remain. Now, you have wasted enough time trying to bait me. Remove the rest of your clothing and be quick about it.”

“I will not! I won't make this easy for you!” she cried indignantly.

“Do you want me to rip your dress completely apart?” Tristan asked.

“Oh, I hate you!” she fumed, but she removed her garments just the same. She reddened as she stood before him, completely unprotected from his lustful gaze. “If I must suffer this indignity, Tristan, at least let me do so in the dark.”

“You have nothing worth hiding, little one.”

“Please!”

“No!” he replied sharply.

“You are cruel beyond reason,
monsieur
.”

“You may think so now, but were I to keep you for my own, then you would change your opinion of me,” he said. “You would look forward to my taking you in my arms. Although you didn't reach fulfillment when we made love the first time, you can't deny you enjoyed the feeling I gave you.”

“You—you are insane! Your touch sickens me!”

“You wanted to kill me for lying to you, Bettina, but now you are not speaking the truth. Shall I prove it to you?”

Without waiting for her to answer, Tristan grabbed her around the waist and pulled her forward until his parted lips covered the tip of one rounded breast. Bettina gasped instantly and put her hands on his shoulders to push him away. But he tightened the grip on her waist until she stopped. His mouth, now moving from one breast to the other, was like wildfire, searing her to her very soul. Tristan continued with his play, sucking, teasing, nibbling softly at her breasts, until Bettina thought she would cry out with the pleasure she felt. Her entire body was aware of his lips, branding her with the truth of his words. But then he stopped.

Bettina knew what this was leading to. She began to panic again as Tristan stood up and removed his clothing. He had said that she didn't reach fulfillment before. Was there a greater pleasure to making love? And if there was, would she experience it this time—would he know if she did? No! It couldn't happen—she couldn't bear it. It would be too humiliating if he knew he gave her pleasure. If she couldn't fight him physically, she must at least fight the pleasure he could give her.

Tristan picked her up and carried her to the bed, then lay down beside her. His lips found hers, and
he kissed her hungrily, demanding a response that she wouldn't give. She searched her mind to find something—anything—to make him angry and make him finish with her quickly.

His hand brushed across her breasts, caressed her belly, and moved lower.

“Tristan!” she cried out, shocked. “I am not a woman of easy virtue who longs to have your fingers explore her body. I am a lady,
monsieur
, and you disgust me!” she hissed, her voice filled with contempt.

“By the saints, vixen, you tempt me to throw you to the sharks!” he growled angrily.

“Better that they feed on my body than you!”

“Your sharp tongue will deny you much, Bettina.”

With that, he climbed on top of her and entered her quickly, and a bit painfully. He rode her hard, with deep, penetrating thrusts, and despite Bettina's desire to resist, a growing, unbelievable pleasure began to spread through her body, until it was cut short by Tristan's final deep thrust.

Bettina felt like screaming when he relaxed on her, exhausted. A minute passed, then two, but Tristan didn't move.

“I wish to get up,” she said coldly.

He leaned on his elbows and stared down at her. “Why?” he inquired softly.

“I would like to go to sleep, if you don't mind. So will you please let me up?”

“You don't make sense, Bettina. If you wish to sleep, then do so.”

“I realize that you are no gentleman, and that you would not give up your bed for a lady, so—”

“On that count you are right,” he interrupted her.
“But I need not give up my bed when I intend to share it.”

“No!” she cried, trying to push him from her, but it was like trying to move an iron man. “I refuse to share this bed with you, Tristan. It is bad enough that I have to suffer your—your mauling and raping my body, but I will not share your bed!”

“And if I insist?”

“You will not!” she fumed.

“Ah, but I do insist, little one,” he returned, with an amused smile curling his lips.

“Don't you know how much I detest you?” she hissed as she squirmed to get out from beneath him. “I cannot stand to be near you. Now release me!”

“If you don't stop wiggling, you will be raped a third time this day. Would you prefer that to sharing my bed?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with devilry.

Bettina froze, fearing even to breathe. She could feel him growing inside her, and her eyes widened. They were deep pools of green, pleading silently with him for mercy.

“What is your answer? Will you share my bed?”

“As with everything else, you leave me no choice. But your weight is unbearable, Tristan. I cannot possibly sleep this way.”

“I will concede you that, but nothing more.”

With that, he rolled to her side, and Bettina quickly yanked the covers over her and faced the wall, getting as close to it as she possibly could. She heard him laugh softly, but he soon fell asleep.

Oh God, how she hated him! He could just fall asleep, as if this day had been no different from any other. While she—she wanted to scream. If someone had told her yesterday that she would fall into the hands of a ruthless pirate, she would have laughed
hysterically. But now—now that she had been raped, not once but twice in the same day by this giant of a man, now that she was no longer innocent and suitable for marriage, she couldn't even cry. Tears would free her of some of this anguish. But she was too angry to cry.