Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) (15 page)

“Ah, so you wish to play the reluctant maid, I see. Fine with me if playacting pleases you … Beth. That is your name, I believe. So, shall I play the lecherous duke and you the beautiful but virtuous serving girl? Or perhaps you’d like to be…”

She cut his words off with her own heated rantings.

Why, the little chit even screamed she’d kill him if he came closer to her. Hawk admitted inwardly that this woman was very good at pretending to be a reluctant virgin. Apparently she’d played this part many times in her profession and had it down to an art. To cajole her further, he undid his belt and threw it to the floor, applauding her on her creativity to spice thing up. Yes, this was one wench who’d make this a memorable voyage.

Flashing her a smile, he grabbed for her, and again she eluded him, but not for long. In a second he held her firmly in his embrace, catching the female scent of her and longing to bury his face within that golden sheath of hair. Reaching into her bodice, his hand captured one of her breasts and he felt it swell and fill his palm. She stopped fighting him and her body rested familiarly against his, almost as if they were made for each other.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, overcome by the desire which rushed through him. “Let’s quit this playacting and enjoy each other, my lovely. I’ve never wanted a woman as much as you.”

This was true. For the first time he could remember, Hawk let his guard fall with a woman and found he seemed unable to control the raging desire which soared through him. He kissed her then, tasting of the soft sweetness of her lips, feeling her grow more pliant against him. His tongue moved from her lips to trail the line of her slender neckline and rest within the lush valley of her breasts.

“Come to bed, my sweet, and show me all you’ve learned in your trade. You’ll find me an eager pupil.” More than eager, he thought to himself. He intended to lift her and carry her to the bunk, but Beth surprised him by going stiff in his arms and pushed away from him. He grabbed for her, but she managed to shake her long hair and try for the door, which was locked.

Hawk was unbearably weary of this stupid game now. He’d played along to amuse her and to arouse himself, and aroused he was. He wasn’t about to wait a moment longer to possess her.

“I want you, Beth. Why do you torture me so? Can’t you tell that I’m languishing from desire for you?” For you, only for you, he found himself thinking.

For a moment, he saw her face soften and thought she was about to relent, Instead, she muttered a harsh, “No.”

“Come, Beth, my sweet,” he cajoled. He’d never cajoled any woman into his bed, and he detested himself for doing it now. But he wanted this woman, wanted her willing and ready for him.

He saw the flash of the blade when she raised her hand.

The jeweled dagger shot silver fire his way, and he silently cursed himself for leaving the thing on the tabletop before the confrontation with
Nightingale
. This turn of events angered him. Who did this doxy think she was? How far was she going to go to fight for her “honor”? he wondered.

“Your role as modest maid has gone too far, sweet. Put down the knife.” He managed to speak calmly.

“Not until you promise to leave me alone.”

Bowing, he moved away from her, telling her that she had nothing to fear from him. He asked for the knife and she refused. God, he even pleaded with the wench, only to have her brandish it at him again. Then he did the only thing he could do. He told her she could keep it.

Watching her face, he discerned suspicion there within those hauntingly beautiful brown eyes. He wondered if she might be a bit mad, but decided that somehow he’d blundered. The young woman before him wasn’t insane, but frightened, truly afraid of him. But why? Certainly she’d been with too many men to count.

Both of them faced each other. He had the advantage of reading her thoughts, but she didn’t. His face was masked and, at that moment, he was glad of it. The wench had nearly made a complete fool of him. To think that he thought all of this was a game, a very deadly game, he reminded himself. The silly woman could have stabbed him to death at any time: in fact, she might be a danger to herself. He had no idea how long they’d have stood staring at each other, she poised to descend the knife if he moved closer,

It was the harsh sound of the knock on the door and Crane’s upraised voice which startled her. Hawk used this moment to lunge forward.

He felt her resistance when he grabbed her arm. “Hand over the blasted thing!” he cried and attempted to wrest the knife from her. He managed to pull down her arm, but her hand refused to break free, and it was at that moment he felt the blade’s icy tip tearing through his shirt to enter his chest.

The stinging sensation caused him to stiffen, and he realized she’d stabbed him. He could see her eyes widen in mute horror. He wanted to reach for her, to touch that glorious mane of hair, but he couldn’t will himself to do that. Weakness assailed him, and he toppled, falling into a dark pit of unconsciousness

7

 “What am I going to do? What is to become of me?” Bethlyn wrung her hands together and paced the confines of the small room she’d been placed in earlier by the man caned Crane. This room wasn’t as nice as Hawk’s cabin. The floor felt damp to her bare feet, and in the light of the dawn from the small cabin window, she saw that there wasn’t even a bunk. A small pallet rested near the wall, but no blanket offered any warmth. The room was as bare and lonely as she felt.

Each time she heard footsteps outside the door, she stiffened, waiting for someone to come in and drag her outside, to cast her overboard for killing Captain Hawk. The whole incident blurred in her memory. All she could remember was her fear of the man, of his searing kiss, which turned her legs to jelly, and how she’d very nearly succumbed to him before sanity returned. Then his tenderness vanished and he would probably have forced her into his bed, except for the knife. She shook her head, wanting to drive away the image of the man’s masked face from her mind. She had been unable to see his eyes, but she knew that surprise and shock must have mingled within them. As long as she lived she’d recall the sensation of cutting into him, the warmth of his blood upon her hand.

“God help me, I’m going insane,” she muttered aloud, and took a deep, controlling breath to steady herself. She longed to cry but wouldn’t give into tears. Keep your wits about yourself, her mind repeated over and over. But it was hard not to be frightened. When Crane broke open the cabin door to find Hawk lying by her feet, the dagger protruding from his chest and her hand and gown covered in the man’s blood, she thought she was as good as dead. Crane had roughly pushed her aside and called for help. Instantly the cabin was overrun with Hawk’s men, and Crane issued orders to one of them to take her away to this small, cold room.

Crane never glanced in her direction, but she sensed his recrimination of her. The privateer who herded her away from the cabin didn’t speak to her, only shoved her inside and locked the door as if she were a criminal, a murderess.

“I didn’t mean to kill him. It was an accident,” she had stated, but no one listened to her, no one believed her.

Sinking to the pallet in abject despair, she wondered how soon it would be until someone came for her. Her mind reeled with thoughts of Jeremy, Mavis, even her father. Would he miss her? She doubted it. Certainly, her errant husband wouldn’t care that she’d been killed by privateers when he learned of her demise. The circumstances surrounding her death would mean nothing to him. She’d ably defended her honor, and for what? All she’d succeeded in doing was killing the debaucher who’d have raped her and getting herself hung or thrown overboard for the deed. A shiver wracked her to contemplate her own end.

She knew it was late afternoon because the sun was sinking behind the horizon when the waiting became almost more than she could bear. The sound of the key grating in the latch catapulted her to her feet. Breathing hard, Bethlyn watched as the man who’d brought her there entered the cabin, a tray balanced in one hand and a nasty looking knife in the other.

“Don’t be gettin’ any ideas about runnin’, missy. I don’t want to hurt you, but I seen what you did to Captain Hawk, and I ain’t about to be one of your victims.”

Another man eyed her cautiously from the doorway as the first man placed the tray on the floor beside the pallet, “Best eat up,” he said. “If word leaks out that I’m feedin’ you, me and my friend here will be taken to task by the others. You ain’t a very popular lady today.”

Bethlyn noticed the way he sneered the word “lady,” and she couldn’t help but wince.

“I won’t apologize for what I did,” she said almost haughtily. “I was defending myself — but I didn’t mean to kill him.”

Through the mask, the man’s eyes shifted, and he appraised her, unable to look away from her. “You’re a peculiar one, I give you that. I ain’t never met a doxy like you. It’s clear you ain’t like those others, but give it up, miss. All Hawk wanted was some fun with you. You had no need to hurt him like you did. I mean, you weren’t givin’ nothin’ to him that you ain’t already gave to other fellows.”

“That’s not true! Please, tell me what is to be done with me, I didn’t mean to kill the horrid man!”

A huge grin split the man’s lips. “Hawk ain’t dead, miss. But I will tell you that you did a nice job of almost sendin’ him to the beyond. Any other man would most like have died, but Hawk is stronger than most men. I taught him everything I know about the sea,” he said with pride and a hint of sorrow in his voice. “I wouldn’t want to hate you for what you did, but I’d have no choice if you’d killed him. Hawk’s like the son I never had.”

“He isn’t dead?” Bethlyn sounded unbelieving.

“Nay, but, mind you, he almost died. He’ll pull through, and I’m glad for your sake.”

Bethlyn didn’t care for the warning in those words. The man moved towards the doorway, and Bethlyn said, “I’m grateful for the food. Thank you, Mr.—”

“Sparrow.”

“I should have known. Everyone on board has a bird’s name. Why is that?” she asked, thinking that a sparrow suited this plain-speaking and nondescript-looking man.

“Birds like freedom, miss, and also birds are hard to catch.”

“Yes, and Captain Hawk is the most high-flying bird of all of you.”

Despite the fact that Sparrow probably didn’t like her a great deal, he managed to smile warmly. “Aye, he is, and don’t you forget that.”

After he’d gone, she realized she was terribly hungry and gulped down the bowl of broth, which was cold, but she didn’t care. She felt that a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Captain Hawk wasn’t dead, and now she had no fear she’d be killed by his men. Though a lethargy stole across her and she’d have liked to sleep, Bethlyn found she couldn’t.

Captain Hawk had survived, and now for the first time, she wondered just exactly what that would mean for her.

~ ~ ~

Two days later Mavis visited her. Her friend sat next to her and the two embraced, Mavis fighting back tears.

“I’m so happy you’re all right, Bethlyn. Crane told me you were placed here. I’ve wanted to see you, but it wasn’t until last night I convinced Crane to allow it. Since Captain Hawk is recovering, Crane is in charge.”

Mavis mentioned that fact almost proudly, and Bethlyn sensed a change in her friend concerning this privateer named Crane.

“Mavis, you may tell me that it’s none of my concern, but how did you convince this Crane fellow to allow you to see me? Please tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

Mavis blushed, but she smiled such a brilliant smile at Bethlyn that Bethlyn gasped. “You did!”

“I love him, Bethlyn. Be happy for me. From the moment I met him I knew Crane was special. Last night was the happiest night of my life. Crane asked to marry me, and I agreed.”

“You know nothing about him. For heaven’s sake, Mavis, the man is a privateer. He and his captain confiscated my father’s ship,” Bethlyn reminded her.

Mavis nodded sheepishly. “I know that, but Crane is a good, decent man. He feels it’s his duty to anger the British.”

“You’re British. How can you marry such a man, knowing how he feels?”

“I love him, he loves me. That’s all I need to know. One day you’ll fall in love, too, and will understand. Be happy for me, I beg of you to understand.”