Pirate Hunter's Mistress (The Virginia Brides) (25 page)

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Bettina was bored. She stretched and yawned, greeting the new day with a heavy dose of ennui that she expressed with an exasperated sigh. What would she do today? No doubt she’d be forced to accompany Beatrix into town, or what the islanders called a town. Bettina thought it was little more than a cluster of hovels with painted signs on the doors. There was very little that a fashionable lady would want to purchase, certainly nothing like the beautiful clothes which Manuel had bought for her in St. Augustine. She’d already viewed the short supply of materials and patterns that were years’ old at the dressmaker’s shop. There wasn’t anything she wanted to purchase, nothing so fine as the clothes she’d packed when Manuel threw her out of his house.

“Loathsome bastard!” she cursed out loud. She’d gone from absolute luxury to residing in Governor Roger’s cramped house in a matter of days. And all because Manuel Silva had taken a fancy to someone new—someone totally unlike herself.

How foolish she’d been to believe that Manuel would marry her. Why should he marry her when he’d had her every way a man could take a woman, when members of his crew had trysted with her, too? She should have known better, should have curbed her own perverted appetites. On Bermuda, her cousin Alastair had told her often enough that she was insatiable—and he should have known since he was the one who’d initiated her into things sexual in the first place.

“I’m going to put Manuel behind me,” she lamented aloud in the realization that she had no other choice in the matter. “Maybe when Lark sees me again, he’ll realize he still wants to marry me.” Lark was her last chance at happiness and must never know about Manuel—and the others. Yet she knew Lark wasn’t a stupid man. Certainly he’d reason that the pirate had made love to her, but he didn’t need to know she’d enjoyed it. The only recourse was to pretend she wasn’t to blame. If Lark ever probed, she would simply weep that Manuel had raped her and kept her a prisoner, which was true enough in the beginning. She had been his captive but he hadn’t raped her and neither had his men. She’d wanted all that had happened to her with a ferocity that had shocked even herself. It was the danger, the forbidden and perverted that had attracted Bettina to Manuel and his way of life. A part of herself would always long for what she’d left behind in St. Augustine.

If only Sloane Mason kept his mouth shut about her activities on St. Augustine, she’d be able to convince Lark that she’d be the perfect wife for him. She’d considered bedding Sloane to gain his silence but had decided against it. No matter how much the men hated each other, she didn’t want Sloane to believe she was unworthy of Lark.

Tapping her long nails on her lips, Bettina pondered what she was going to do about Lady Marlee Arden. Bettina sat up and raked her hand through her tousled curls. She considered the strange situation of the meddlesome young woman who’d risked her life to help free someone she’d never met. Bettina didn’t need to question why she’d performed such a noble deed for she already knew the answer—Marlee Arden loved Lark and hoped to win his affections by proving herself worthy.

But did Lark love Lady Arden?

Bettina trembled to believe he might. Sloane had already told her that the honorable Lark would rush to free his kinswoman. She expected as much, but she wondered if Lark might prefer this other woman over herself, that he might refuse to marry her.

“He’ll marry me,” Bettina said out loud and there was true resolve in her voice. “No other woman but myself will marry Lark and live at Arden’s Grove. He’s promised to me, and if I must prey on his honor to become his wife, then I shall.” And she knew she’d do anything to keep Lark. She’d done worse things in her life—things even she dreaded to remember.

Beatrix knocked on her door just then and interrupted Bettina’s reverie. Clad in a morning gown of dove gray, Beatrix politely invited her guest for a drive into town. Bettina readily and graciously accepted but she was no longer bored. Lark Arden was on her mind, as well as his thriving plantation along the James River. She convinced herself that she would come out of this just fine indeed. Her future happiness depended upon how well she could convince Lark that she was a true innocent, placed in the hands of a despicable pirate by an unkind fate. So far, she’d convinced Beatrix and Governor Rogers.

Lark was next, and she was up to the challenge. After all, she hadn’t lived with the infamous and nasty Manuel Silva for a year and learned nothing about deception.

The search for Silva had proven futile. Her Ladyship dropped anchor at New Providence some two weeks after she’d sailed away, and there was a heaviness which hung about the crew like a yoke. No one laughed or jested, in fact the men were solemn and moved quietly about the ship in fear of riling their moody captain. Some had decided not to sign up again with the somber Captain Arden but would seek a more jovial bunch of seamen with whom to sail.

The only one who truly seemed to understand Lark’s frustrations was Holcombe. “We took a good shot at finding Silva. Perhaps next time we’ll be luckier,” Holcombe expressed his hope to Lark as the late afternoon sun cast a tepid glow over the island.

Lark clutched the rope on one of the riggings and nodded less enthusiastically. “Aye, but I won’t have much of a crew. It seems my men are deserting me.”

“You can’t blame them, Lark. They’re not used to idleness and crave the heat of battle.”

Lark sighed, his gaze roaming over The Merry Bandit which gently bobbed some yards away. “Maybe I should be more like my half-brother who hasn’t earned an honest day’s wages but is known for giving his crew one hell of a good time.”

Holcombe didn’t offer a suggestion and Lark was grateful to the man for keeping silent. He’d heard so many gripes and complaints the last two weeks that all he wanted to do was get a good night’s sleep for once without worrying about the crew, without having to hear Todd grumbling about what sorry pirate hunters they were. If anyone other than the lad had expressed that sentiment aloud, he’d have chastised the man with a flogging. Todd was only a boy—but an astute one. Lark Arden was a sorry pirate hunter where Manuel Silva was concerned. The slimy bastard had eluded him again.

His body craved sleep, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. The last two weeks he’d spent searching for Silva by day but thinking about Marlee at night. Her face was constantly in his thoughts. He noticed that Lundstrum’s ship wasn’t anchored by the quay, an indication that Marlee had left New Providence for England. An overwhelming sadness filled him, because he’d never see her again.

“Sir, Captain Arden, sir.” Lark heard his name being called from the quay and identified Governor Rogers’s servant.

“Hello, Cosmos, how are you?” Lark shouted and waved to the black man who was dressed in blue and green livery.

“I’ve been checking every day for your ship, sir. I’ve a message from the guv’nor for you. He wants to see you right away—right away. The carriage is waiting for you.”

Lark didn’t waste time. Immediately he sensed something was wrong for Rogers to have Cosmos, the governor’s prized servant, checking on the ship’s arrival each day. He didn’t change his clothes and bathe as he longed to do but found himself disembarking at the governor’s house before ten minutes had passed. Beatrix met him in the foyer.

“Oh, Captain Arden, you’re back! Woodes will be so relieved.”

Lark thought Beatrix looked relieved, too, as she hurried to fetch Woodes from his study. Woodes, however, appeared with a worried frown on his face as he extended a hand to Lark. “Thank God you’re back, Lark. Thank God!”

“I gather something’s wrong,” Lark burst out, barely breathing as a horrible thought came to mind. “Has something happened to Lundstrum’s ship? Has something happened to Marlee—er, Lady Arden?”

Rogers pulled a fine linen handkerchief from out of his sleeve and dabbed his forehead. “No news about Lundstrum’s ship, Lark. Lundstrum sailed on time and as far as I know, nothing has happened to his ship.”

“Good, good. I’ve been concerned about Lady Arden.”

“Oh, dear!” commented Beatrix who was instantly silenced by the severe expression on Rogers’s face.

“Something has happened.” Lark glanced worriedly at the two people.

“Come into the parlor where it’s cooler,” Rogers implored. “Beatrix will fix us a nice lemonade.”

“Yes, yes, I shall do that instantly.” Beatrix scampered away like a frightened house cat for the kitchen.

Lark followed Rogers into the parlor but wasn’t up to any amenities. “Tell me what’s happened,” Lark demanded none too gently.

Rogers wiped his brow. “Something terrible has happened to Lady Arden.”

The blood pounded through Lark’s temples. “I thought you told me she was safe on Lundstrum’s ship.”

“No, I didn’t say that. I said Lundstrum’s ship is safe, as far as I know. I didn’t say she was on the ship. The truth is, Lark, Lady Arden didn’t leave with Lundstrum at all.” Rogers took Lundstrum’s note from his pocket and handed it to Lark.

Lark read the note in disbelief before looking at Rogers with a black scowl on his face. “My bastard brother must have kidnapped her!”

“No, he didn’t,” Rogers protested. “I assure you that Lady Arden left of her own free will, at least that’s what Sloane has told me.”

“But I saw Sloane’s ship by the quay. Is Marlee with him?” Lark crumpled the note in his hand, feeling a tremendous pain to think that Marlee preferred his ne’er-do-well brother to him, to believe she’d led him a merry chase across the Atlantic.

Rogers sadly shook his head, his expression was so serious that Lark shivered. “It seems, Lark, that for some strange reason Lady Arden left with Mason for Saint Augustine. Somehow Mason knew that Manuel Silva is headquartered there and she insisted on being taken to the pirate’s den—”

“Sloane took her there!” Lark’s shout was deafening, his face had turned a vibrant shade of red.

“It seems he did, but—but,” Rogers broke off, sweating profusely, “she didn’t return with Captain Mason. Silva is holding her captive, and Sloane doesn’t think he’ll give her up easily. For some reason, the pirate fancies himself in love with her.”

“Dear God!” Lark hoarsely exclaimed, unable to think of anything else to say, unable to fathom why Marlee had left with Sloane to seek out Silva in the first place. She was at Silva’s mercy, and his mind couldn’t dwell on the horrors his sweet, innocent Marlee must be enduring. He wouldn’t think about that now. He had to leave for Saint Augustine and rescue her, but first he had to break his brother’s worthless neck. “How do you know all of this?” he asked Rogers.

“Sloane told me in strictest confidence. Beatrix won’t say a word to anyone either, because well—the subject is indelicate and Lady Arden’s reputation would be ruined.” Woodes smiled sadly. “I’m sorry, Lark, truly sorry but something good has come out of this.”

“The only good will be strangling my brother with my bare hands.”

“I know you’re upset, but I have a happy surprise for you.”

Rogers must be addled, Lark thought. What happy sort of surprise could come from such a tragedy? His beautiful Marlee was at the mercy of a despicable pirate, the same beast who had kidnapped and murdered Bettina. “I don’t have time for surprises, I have to sail to Saint Augustine and rescue Marlee. I have to leave.”

“Wait, please!” Rogers’s voice halted Lark before he made his way to the door. “Go on the veranda and see your surprise, my boy. Please.”

Stifling a curse, Lark strode through the hallway and walked into the bright sunshine. Beatrix was sitting at a wrought-iron table with a woman whose back was to Lark. Beatrix rose at once, smiling broadly. The woman who sat in the shadows followed suit. She turned and faced Lark, and the moment he heard her say his name, he knew it was Bettina.

She came toward him, walking into the dying shafts of sunlight that highlighted her hair. A tender, happy smile rose to her lips but she waited before him, not touching him, only drinking in his face with eyes that he remembered as being incredibly green and a mouth so red and luscious it resembled summer berries. He heard her sigh, her voice breaking with emotion when she spoke. “Oh, Lark, my—darling, how glad I am to see you.” Then she threw herself headlong into his arms and wept joyful tears against his shirt.

“Bettina, you’re safe,” he mumbled, barely aware when the governor and Beatrix withdrew from the veranda. He felt himself to be in a fog. She was alive, very much alive from the way she fit her body snugly against him. He could discern the beating of her heart beneath his hand as she held it against her full breast and spilled warm tears upon it. The rumors about her death were unfounded. He’d spent months in torment over what had happened to this woman, and now she was miraculously in his embrace again. But the joy he’d expected to feel was strangely absent, because the woman in his arms wasn’t Marlee.

“I’ve come back to you, my darling,” she crooned up to him and stroked his cheek with a hand which was soft and well-manicured.

“Are you really all right?” he asked her, wondering why he couldn’t summon more enthusiasm, why his own voice sounded wooden to his ears. Gazing down at her, he realized he’d forgotten that she had a tiny beauty spot at the corner of her mouth, or had he ever seen it before? This woman, whom he’d been searching for these last few months, was a stranger to him whereas he could recall every detail on Marlee’s face.