Gallant Rogue (Reluctant Heroes Book 3) (36 page)

"How is she?" Jack asked. "Will she be all right?"

"In time," Chloe answered. She looked down at her uncle. He was sleeping. She touched his cheek, surprised to feel the smooth skin now that the rough beard had been cleaned away. "I will take care of her and when she is able, we will decide where she should go. Back home to her family or off to a convent."

"A convent? That's a trifle extreme, wouldn't you say?"

"Not every woman is able to get past the terrible experience. If she feels safe in a fortress of nuns, then I say let her have her wish. But not now," Chloe insisted. "It is too soon. Time eases the fear and the nightmares. And kind men help a girl realize that not all men are beasts. A patient and loving man can bring an abused girl back from the dark precipice. It was so with our dear Elizabeth. The count helped her past her terror. She was not much older than Marta when she was kidnapped and . . . seriously hurt."

She cast a quick glance at the girl in the corner, hoping Marta wasn't listening to them discuss Lady Elizabeth's unfortunate experience at the hands of smugglers a decade past.

"And men like Gareth?" Jack's hand touched Chloe's shoulder, cupping it gently. "Did he help you get past the terror?" Chloe was surprised by his caress after the sordid things he had heard about her past. "You said he was a dear lamb. Is that what Marta needs to help her past the evil that was done to her? To find a lamb among lions?"

"I do not know what you speak of," Chloe lied.

"You do, but we will not speak of the dark past if it troubles you,
my love
."

The fact that he was touching her shoulder and calling her his love confused her.

She didn't dare glance up at him. He was speaking of things she was certain she had never revealed to another soul. Being a slave exposed a woman to many indignities, including rape.

Gareth
had
been a kind and gentle lover. He was patient with her. As the years went by, she sometimes thought him too weak, too meek, and longed for a man more like the count, a fierce warrior who would rise up and protect her against all insult, no matter how slight. Gareth never spoke up when others spoke ill of her, never once stood up for her. She secretly resented her kind and gentle husband for that, and deep in her heart had longed for a champion.

Jack had been that man, for an instant, for those few days during their wild sojourn in Spain. His defense of her last night was so horrifying and beautiful it was almost too fantastic to remember. He stood between her and that wretched French soldier. He killed the man who was threatening her with unspeakable violence. It was a fleeting moment of boldness, courage and passion, one she would treasure forever. Now, as they were preparing to sail away from the chaos of Spain at war, she didn't dare to hope that Jack would want her in his life--not after the things he learned about her past.

"Let us go out on the deck, to talk alone." Jack squeezed her shoulder. "We need to discuss our future."

"We don't have a future," she said, and quickly resented her brash reply.

"Are you certain?" He leaned forward and his hand slipped from her shoulder to hover beneath her chin. His thumb lifted her chin so she would look up at him. "I'm about to propose to you, Ramirez. You could at least give me a proper hearing before you damn me to hell, another decade of hell as I watch you run away from the truth. We've wasted enough time apart."

"You still
want
me?" Her eyes were brimming with hot tears. "After all you heard last night, you would propose marriage to me? Are you mad, Captain?"

"I could be," he agreed, smiling at her. "I'm cursed. So I've been told, cursed by some magic biscuits I was given by a well--meaning old wizard years ago. Cursed to love you, and only you, for the rest of my days. There is only one antidote, my sweet lass. Marrying you, keeping you always near me. That is the only way I can see to heal this driving madness that makes me crave your kisses and your laugher, and yes, even your fierce temper. Argue with me, Chloe. Kiss me, defy me, rebuke me, but be mine always"

"I can't, Jack. I cannot go back to Ravencrest. I was miserable there. They all know of my past, and now
you
know. I'm Juan Ramirez's bastard, a former slave, the grand-daughter of a Voodoo priestess. And I married a bastard, so I have no legal last name, I am neither Ramirez nor O'Donovan in truth. I cannot marry you and ruin your reputation--I--I--"

"Just say yes." The voice came from the bunk. The marquis was awake, and listening to their conversation. "Say yes, girl, take
his
name."

Startled, she looked at her uncle. His face was so pale and wane on the pillow.

"Little Chloe," he whispered. "I always wished I could meet you."

"Well, now you have and you're none the better for it," she replied, bitterness rising. He was a Spanish noble. She was his brother's bastard.

They had no future together. She was a fool to believe that they could be a family.

"I am." Uncle Miguel reached up in an awkward movement, his hand fumbling toward her. "I am better for it. You saved me, child. Your determination to find me saved my life. I was to be hung by the French. You saved me. Now, marry the captain. He's a good man."

"I cannot bring shame to the captain's name by marrying him and going back to Ravencrest,"  Chloe explained through her tears. "It's not fair to him."

"Who said anything about going back to Ravencrest?" Jack countered from behind him. He pulled Chloe to her feet and then took both her hands. "Where do you want to live? Name a place. Spain--only after the French are routed, mind you--or England, America . . . ?"

"
London
. I want to live in London. I want to go to Hyde Park in the mornings, visit the galleries and museum, the zoo, the bookseller, the coffee shops, attend the theatre and have people know that I'm just another émigré from abroad, a Spanish refugee. But your place is at the count's side. Your home is near St. Kitts."

"My home is here." He placed his fingers over her heart. "Will you give me a room in your heart?"

"I give you my blessing, young man, and my eternal gratitude for saving us from the French. Now kiss her before she starts talking again." The slurred speech of the marquis came from behind them.

Jack's head dipped and his lips caressed her mouth with a tenderness that nearly made her swoon beneath the magic of his kiss. The cabin was filled with the sound of snores as the marquis drifted off into his laudanum-induced slumber.

Chloe drew away from his kiss, and her lips curled up in a smile as the loud snores filled the room. "I've always longed for a home of my own," she confessed. "I'm tired of living off another person's benevolence. I want a house in London. Will you take me, knowing my dark secrets, my flaws--knowing I'll not give you a moment's peace when you are home from the sea but expect you to go about town with me and see the sights?"

"I take you, Chloe, just as you are. My beautiful little Spaniard, if you'll just stop arguing and say yes, Captain Maxwell has agreed to marry us on the deck--tonight--if you'll have me. Please, say yes. This is the most irregular proposal a man has ever made; with a snoring uncle in attendance and a girl about to take holy orders and join a nunnery."

"Yes." She whispered, rising on her tiptoes to give him a much deserved kiss.

Epilogue

London,  May 1808.

When news reached England of the brutal executions of civilians taking place in Madrid and various regions of Spain by French soldiers, Jack was relieved they managed to escape that troubled land when they had. On March 31st, Jack and Chloe were married on the deck of the Mercury, with Captain Maxwell presiding over their nuptials. 

Days after safely reaching London, Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings heard that Captain Maxwell and the British Naval Blockade had engaged the French on April 4th, off the coast of Rota, north of Cadiz. Had they lingered but days longer in the area, the crew of the
Pegasus
might have had to fight with the British against the French. It was fortunate they left Cadiz waters when they had, as Jack would not willingly expose Chloe to the horrors of a sea battle.

The situation in Spain was escalating quickly. One hundred and fifty French soldiers were reported killed by the citizens of Madrid during an uprising on May 2nd. The French Imperial Guard and Mameluke Cavalry had crashed into the city and trampled many of the rioters. On the day after the uprising, the French retaliated by dragging citizens out of the city to face firing squads. None were spared, the old, weak or the innocent. Madrid was not the only place that rebelled against French occupation; similar uprisings occurred at the same time in towns throughout the country. French reprisals and reports of brutality were increasing.

It was a gut reaction by the occupying army, a desperate attempt to maintain order. Jack knew their brutal actions would seal their doom. People would not abide a tyrant, not for long in this new, enlightened century. As the world watched, the French, who had thrown off the shackles of tyranny a decade earlier, were now cast in the role of the oppressor. Europe was fighting back and the French allies were turning on the self proclaimed Emperor and his troops.

As he read the horrifying accounts, Jack wondered if the old couple at the Villa Almendra would be safe from the chaos. He folded the newspaper and set it aside as Chloe entered the parlor of their new townhouse. He didn't wish her to see the reports of the latest atrocities occurring in Spain.

"Are you ready?" She asked, coming to the settee and leaning forward to give him a generous view of her breasts as she kissed him. She was dressed in a new silk evening gown of deep emerald green. A pearl necklace and matching earrings complimented the gown to perfection. "The play begins in an hour. I won't miss the first half, not this time."

"We have a box rented for the next year. It hardly matters if we arrive early or late, our seats are set." Jack reminded her.

The theatre box had been his gift to his bride, as he knew she loved literature. Mr. Jinx suggested a theatre box, and it was a fair sight easier than buying her a library. She loved to go out in the evenings, she loved London and she loved to read Shakespeare's plays. What better gift could he give his darling?

The Mayfair townhouse had been the gift of the marquis to the newlyweds. Chloe's uncle rewarded them for rescuing him with a lovely home complete with servants in the heart of London. The man doted on Chloe, and seemed determined to make up for her terrible childhood after his brother died and she was left to fend for herself.

"Let me go, please?" She pleaded as Jack kept her captive in his arms for a moment longer. He kissed her neck just below her ear, knowing full well it brought a rush of desire.

"Stop that." She chided, showing more resistance than he had anticipated. "This is why I missed Act One last night. It's
A Midsummer Night's Dream
, my favorite, Jack."

As they were alone in the room, he cupped her round bottom with one hand, determined to persuade her to slip upstairs to their private chamber for a quick romp before going out to the theatre. "It's not as if you don't know what happens. You've read it a dozen  times."

"Yes, but I've never had it acted for me by players before. It's so much more lively this way. I must see the entire play if I am to write Elizabeth a detailed account of the production. This is the last night, Jack." She extracted herself from his embrace and tugged at her gloves.

He'd just have to seduce her on the carriage ride home. They hadn't made love in a moving carriage, not yet. "As you wish." He conceded, tossing the newspaper aside as he stood and allowed Chloe to drag him by the hand to the object of her desire; the city of London.

As they moved from the parlor to the front door, the butler was there with Jack's beaver hat and gloves, and Mrs. Rawlings' ivory silk wrapper. Jack took it from the servant and placed it on his wife's shoulders.  He turned to the butler. "Burn the paper, after you've read it, that is."

Gibbs nodded, fully aware the master wished to keep the news from his lady for as long as possible. Chloe would learn of the events in Spain, but not tonight. She was happy tonight, and Jack wanted her to enjoy the theatre. There would be plenty of time for worry and concern in the coming days, as England was about to take on the task of ousting the French from Spain.

The Marquis del Amico was a popular figure in England after his rescue. He was still recovering from his wounds, confined mostly to the Mayfair townhouse he had purchased for his niece and her new husband. His story of being held captive in Spain, helpless to defend the women in his employ from the cruel abuse of the French, made him a tragic heroic figure in London. Several callers visited their townhouse, as English nobles and members of parliament were anxious to welcome this new and important Spanish ally to the cause against Napoleon.

The marquis was a talented storyteller. Uncle Miguel was asked by his frequent guests to recount the tale of his daring rescue. A rescue instigated by his beautiful widowed niece, Mrs. O'Donovan, who had been driven to find her lost uncle at any cost, he told his avid listeners. As a romanticized heroine in her uncle's mind, Chloe faced numerous obstacles in her quest to find her only remaining family member. She was praised in his stories for risking her life and that of her youthful maid in the wild Andalusia countryside as they hid in deep ravines and abandoned villas to avoid capture by the French. She was not alone, the Marquis would tell his riveted listeners with relish. She had a very capable escort; a merchant captain from America, a brave, resourceful man who had helped them get away and then asked the Marquis for the hand of his lovely niece as a reward. 

As a result of the marquis fanciful tales, Jack had been interviewed by three newspapers after they arrived safely in London. He was hailed as a hero of sorts,
a gallant rogue, a  merchant seaman from America
who had bravely stepped into the fray to
rescue a Spanish noble.