Pirate Hunter's Mistress (The Virginia Brides) (18 page)

“Why? What has he done?”

“Trust me, my dear,” was all Beatrix said and joined the women.

Marlee didn’t feel like sitting with a group of women. She needed some fresh air and headed outside onto the moon-soaked terrace at the side of the house. She breathed in the sweet perfume of the sea grapes that grew in profusion nearby.

“I’d take Beatrix’s advice,” came a masculine voice from the shadows.

She turned, the bottom of her emerald satin gown swishing around her calves, to behold Sloane Mason smoking a cheroot and indolently leaning against a palm tree. Silver streaks of moonlight emphasized his dark hair and glittering blue eyes.

“I don’t mean to be rude, sir, but I dislike your sneaking up on me.”

“I apologize, my lady,” he solemnly intoned.

“I also dislike your listening to a private conversation.”

She saw the quick glint of a smile. “I won’t apologize for that. I learn a great deal by keeping my ears open and my mouth closed. And if I heard correctly, I’d surmise that Beatrix believes that Lark Arden is using you.”

Marlee turned away, unable to think of anything else to say to Sloane Mason. In fact, she was horribly embarrassed for the man to have overheard the conversation. And she was seething with indignation not only because of what he’d overheard and said to her but because Lark evidently didn’t care enough about her to put in an appearance. No doubt, he was making arrangements to send her to England, eager to be rid of her. But why? Could Beatrix and this Sloane Mason be right about Lark? Had he used her for his own pleasure during the voyage, just as he’d used her fortune? Would he leave and not tell her farewell? He’d done that to her before. She wouldn’t believe he’d do it again.

“I don’t want your concern, young man,” Marlee haughtily pronounced.

Sloane laughed heartily. “You sound like you’re fifty years old. I bet you’re no more than sixteen.”

“I’m nearly nineteen,” she declared, vexed for him to think she was a mere child. She was a woman now—Lark had seen to that.

“Again, forgive me.” He made a deep bow of apology.

“I think you’re making sport of me.”

His face softened. “Perhaps a little, my lady.”

“Why? I’ve never done anything to offend you. I don’t even know you —or like you, at this point,” she admitted in all honesty.

Sloane came closer to her and leaned near to her. “Ah, Lady Marlee, your words wound me. Perhaps I jest with you because you fancy yourself in love with Lark Arden. Perhaps I wish to be as fortunate as Lark in affairs of the heart.” He clasped her hand in his. “I own a fine ship and have a beautiful spot on the island to build a fancy house, a house any fine lady would like. I can give a woman whatever Lark can and more—much more. You have only to ask, my sweet, and I will do your bidding.” Sloane put her hand to his mouth to kiss but Marlee pulled it away.

“Sir, please, I don’t know what you’re doing—”

“Yes, you do,” he ground out and grabbed her around the waist. “You’ve enticed me with your beauty and sweetness. I want only to kiss you, please just once I would like to kiss a fine lady—”

His lips barely made contact with hers before Marlee was aware that Sloane Mason had been wrenched away from her. She tottered and clung to the palm tree to keep from falling, suddenly aware that Lark was standing with clenched fists above the prone figure of Sloane who now lay in the sand. “Get up and fight, you bloody cur!” Lark shouted to Sloane. “Get up so I can beat your lying face in.”

Marlee had never heard Lark speak like that before, not even to his crew, and there was something frightening about his stance and tone of voice. He looked dark as a black tower in his evening clothes and as wild as a storm as he waited for Sloane to rise to his feet.

“Lark, please, nothing happened!” she cried in fear that he’d kill Sloane Mason.

He shot her the blackest look she’d ever seen and instantly she realized she’d be better off remaining silent. There was something between these two men that she didn’t understand, something of which she wasn’t a part. “Get up and fight!” Lark cried. “I want you to fight me.”

“I know you do, dear brother,” Sloane mocked lowly. “And that is why I won’t.”

Brother? Had Marlee heard Sloane correctly? Lark couldn’t possibly be his brother. But as Sloane rose to his feet and she was able to compare the two men together, she quickly saw the resemblance. They were built the same, their hair was the same ebony color but whereas Lark had dark eyes, Sloane’s eyes were a startling shade of blue. Yes, they were brothers but bad blood flowed between them.

Sloane dusted himself off, taunting Lark with his nonchalance. “I paid dearly for this suit of clothes, Lark, and now you’ve made me dirty it. You always were a bully, even when we were children.”

“And you were always a hateful bastard,” Lark said with such startling calmness that Marlee shivered.

“Aye, you’re right, bastard I was and bastard I’ll always be in your eyes, big brother.” Sloane grinned and looked at Marlee. “I’m the Arden bastard son. Lark detests me as much as I detest him.”

“Shut up, Sloane!” Lark commanded and moved near to Marlee to take her arm. “Marlee doesn’t want to hear any of your imbecile ravings.”

“Hmmm, maybe she should,” Sloane mused aloud. “Maybe she should hear all I have to say. I’d think your fine lady might be interested in what I’d tell her.”

“Get on your way, you coward, or I’ll—” Lark made a move in Sloane’s direction, but Sloane nimbly jumped out of the way and chuckled.

“My lips are closed, dear brother, I assure you of that.” Sloane made an exaggerated bow in Marlee’s direction and said with all sincerity, “Remember what I told you, my lady. If ever you have need of me, I shall help you. I meant every word. Good night to you.” He turned and suddenly fixed his sapphire gaze on Lark. “And to you, too, dear brother.” Then he headed down the beach and away from the house.

Marlee felt Lark trembling. Apparently the emotions between these two men ran deep. She held onto his hand and looked up at him. “Lark, he wasn’t going to hurt me. I would have been able to take care of myself.”

“You’ve no idea what Sloane Mason is capable of,” he stated and imploringly sought her eyes. “Stay away from him, Marlee. Promise me you’ll stay away from him.”

At that second she’d have promised anything to Lark. She was so glad to see him again. “I promise. But you must tell me about Sloane. I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“As far as I’m concerned, I don’t.” Lark sounded bitter. “Sloane was a mistake my father made with an indentured servant girl years ago. The girl died in childbirth and my mother took Sloane as her own child. She was determined to raise the boy and believe me when I tell you that Mother loved him like he was her own son. He was my little brother, and I loved him. Father loved him, too. But there was something vicious about Sloane, something not quite right. He was petty and jealous of everything I received, even if he got the exact same thing.”

“Maybe he acted that way because he sensed he was different.” Marlee empathized with Sloane. She knew how it felt to be part of a household where you weren’t truly wanted.

“Don’t feel sorry for him,” Lark warned. “Sloane never knew about his mother until he was almost fourteen, but by that time he’d done everything imaginable to turn us away from him. The little bastard would set fires to the stables; once he even started a small fire in the dining room because Mother told him he couldn’t have another serving of cobbler. Then valuables would disappear and we learned he’d been selling them in Williamsburg. Father finally had enough when Sloane was sixteen and gotten a neighbor’s daughter—” Lark broke off and took a deep, steadying breath. “Sloane refused to marry her and called her a whore to her face. The girl drowned herself. That was when Father ran him off, telling him never to return to Arden’s Grove.”

“How awful for all of you.” Marlee stroked Lark’s hand, until he stopped trembling. “How does Sloane happen to be here?”

“An odd quirk of fate, I guess. It seemed Sloane changed his name and joined the men Rogers had picked to clean up the island. I was part of that group. Imagine how I felt to be face to face with my bastard brother again. I’ve tried to put ill feelings aside, but he always manages to rankle me. Somehow Sloane just seems to know how to upset me.”

Marlee slipped into his arms, knowing she belonged there. She nestled her head against his chest. “Don’t think about him anymore,” she told him. “I’m happy that you’re here. I thought you’d gone off pirate hunting and had left me.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I had things to do before I could come here tonight.”

“Like arranging my passage to England?”

She felt him stiffen and then relax. “Yes.”

This time she stiffened and gazed at him through misty eyes. “I don’t want to go back. I want to stay with you.”

“Marlee, you can’t—”

“Why not?” she persisted and clung to the lapels on his jacket. “I love you.” She could see the torment on his face and was glad for it. Maybe he’d change his mind.

“You can’t stay. Don’t make this any harder than it already is. I’ve got to find Manuel Silva— there are—other—things I’ve got to do. I don’t have room in my life for you now, Marlee. Please understand.”

“But I don’t understand!” She drew away from him. “I can’t understand something if you don’t tell me what it is I’m supposed to understand. Why must you torment me?”

“I’m the one who’s tormented, Marlee. I’m the one.” He swooped down and captured her mouth in a kiss which seared her very soul. Like a captive wanton, she clung to him, reveling in the warmth and desire she felt. Surely he must love her. How could he not when she was bubbling over with love for him?

But the kiss ended as quickly as it had begun when Beatrix suddenly appeared and discreetly cleared her throat. Lark and Marlee guiltily broke away.

“I didn’t know you were here, Captain. Please join the gentlemen for a glass of rum. I know Woodes will be pleased to see you,” Beatrix invited pleasantly but her worried frown belied the invitation.

“Uh, no, I can’t. Please extend my apology to him.”

“I shall.”

Lark smiled sadly at Marlee. “Good night, my lady. Sleep well.” He left her standing on the terrace. She watched him depart from her, her gaze following his dark figure until he vanished into the velvet night.

Things were different, now that they were in what was loosely termed on New Providence as “polite society,” Lark bitterly observed as he stood on the deck of his ship. He’d spent the last three nights alone in his bed, unable to sleep and barely able to eat. Never had a woman had this profound of an effect upon him. Never had he cared for a woman as much as Marlee. To even think he might be in love with her was a thought he couldn’t dwell upon. He hadn’t loved Bettina, the woman his father had chosen for him. And now, he couldn’t face the reality that he might be in love with Marlee only to lose her forever.

He felt it was better for both of them if he didn’t see her too often. If he distanced himself from her, then when the time came for her to leave, he’d be emotionally detached and would be able to put on a brave facade. Yet, God only knew how much he’d miss her and nothing could stop the pain he’d experience when she was truly gone.

Lost in his reverie, he didn’t notice Holcombe approaching with a short, overweight man beside him. “Lark,” Holcombe said, “this man has news for you about Manuel Silva.”

At the mention of the notorious pirate’s name, Lark came alert. For the first time he realized the other man’s presence and grimaced when he recognized the swarthy little creature in ill-fitting clothes with Holcombe. “Well, well, Lescale, it’s been a long time.”

“
Oui
, Monsieur Lark, too long.”

“The last time I saw you I think you were jumping ship in Tortuga.”

Lescale smiled sheepishly. “
Oui
, I apologize for leaving your ship, but there was this beautiful
señorita
—”

Lark held up a hand and chuckled. “Enough, don’t tell me anymore.”

“Then you don’t hold a grudge against Lescale?”

Lark sobered. “Not if the information about Manuel Silva is something of value to me.”

“
Oui
, I understand. I’ve heard you’ve offered three hundred pounds for this information.”

“Only if it turns out to be correct. Do you know where Silva is?”

Lescale moved closer to Lark, his tone conspiratorially low. “I saw him myself only last month, monsieur Lark. I was sailing on a ship bound for Cuba when out of nowhere Silva’s black crow of a ship appeared. His flag was raised to attack and he chased us, but to our good fortune, the wind was in our favor and we outran him. But at one point, we were close enough for Silva to be observed on deck. He is a vulture, Captain Lark, a dark, evil man.”

Lark knew that only too well. “Where do you think he is, Lescale?”

“There is a group of islands near Bimini. I’ve heard this is where he anchors his ship, his base when he launches an attack. And Silva doesn’t care who he attacks, monsieur, as you well know. He’s attacked ships flying the Spanish flag, he’s been known to destroy the ships of his own cronies and steal their treasure. No one and nothing is sacred to Silva. He must be destroyed.”