Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) (21 page)

And Mavis, Beth’s friend and the woman Crane loved, was she one of those women? Apparently not. If neither of them was being sent to Philadelphia for the British soldiers’ amusements, then why were they on
Nightingale
in the first place?

Only one answer made sense, and though he longed to push the thought out of his mind, he couldn’t. Too much was at stake; his work could be endangered if what he thought turned out to be true. He decided to bide his time and watch this sleeping tigress well. But until she made her move, he’d find pleasure in the taking of her lovely body.

Beth stirred and stretched a bit, then growing aware that Hawk held her in his arms, she stiffened but relaxed to recall the memory of the wondrous love they’d recently shared. With feather-soft touches, her fingers traced the angled lines of his face, and in the darkness she smiled.

“Have I been sleeping long?” she asked.

Hawk’s hand traced the soft curves of her backside. “No, but you deserved a nap, little tigress.”

Bethlyn giggled and planted a kiss onto one of his nipples. She sighed, much contented and extremely pleased with herself. She belonged to Hawk now, body and soul. The faded memory of her husband prodded her conscience some, but she’d deal with Ian Briston later. For the moment, her world was Hawk.

Lovingly, she stroked his face, delighting in the feel of his stubbled chin against her palm. Then she traced the outline of his lips, his nose, his eyes, and finally buried her fingers within the fullness of his hair.

“I’m pleased you aren’t bald,” she told him.

“Why would you have thought that?” Hawk gathered her more closely against him.

“I’ve never seen you without your head covered. I’d like to see your face.”

She felt him stiffen. “I don’t show anyone my face.”

“You’ve never shown Crane, any of your men? They have no idea what you look like?”

“Barely a handful of my men have ever seen me, and these men I trust with my life.”

“You don’t trust me.”

“No.”

“Not even after what just happened between us?”

“No.
^”

His voice was curt, much too cool and sounded strangely suspicious to Bethlyn. “I’d never turn you in, Hawk. Not now.”

“At least I know you think me a good lover. Thank you for small favors, Beth.”

He started to push her away and get up, but she clung to him. “Tell me why you hate the Crown. You’re an Englishman.”

Hawk said nothing at first, and she thought he was going to leave her. Instead, he settled back against the pillows. “I’m an American, not an Englishman. There’s a difference which only those people born on American soil can feel. We’ve come into our own, and as soon as the king realizes this, the better off everyone will be.”

“Then if you hate the British, you hate me also.”

In the darkness she heard a ragged sigh. “Again, Beth, you don’t understand. I can’t explain my purpose to you, because you’ve closed your mind to liberty and equality. I’d think that you, a girl from humble origins would understand. The king and the aristocracy can’t fathom what people like myself want. We want to be self-governing, and we are. A Declaration of Independence was signed only one year ago, and as far as I’m concerned, America is free of British tyranny. I won’t rest until the British are driven from our shores.”

She wondered how he’d truly regard her if he knew that she was the Earl of Dunsmoor’s daughter and the rightful owner of the ship he’d captured, but she weighed his words and found some substance to them. However, she was a loyal subject of the king who couldn’t change her allegiance any more than he could change his.

“We’ve reached a stalemate,” she murmured and felt him heave up and leave the bunk.

“It appears we have, but I doubt our political opinions will keep us apart.” He kissed the top of her nose, and she heard him dressing in the darkness.

“Where are you going, Hawk?”

“I must tend matters on deck. Go back to sleep.” He pulled open the drapes, and moonlight filtered into the cabin. Bethlyn saw that he was fully dressed and he wore his mask.

~ ~ ~

Later that morning, a gentle tapping on the cabin door woke Bethlyn, and she opened her eyes to find Pearl peering thoughtfully at her.

“Sorry to be waking you,” Pearl apologized and eased herself into the room, carrying three gowns with her and two pairs of shoes. “Captain Hawk said I was to tend to you this morning.”

Bethlyn sat up and pulled the sheet about her, not able to still the blush which rose to her cheeks to be found in Hawk’s bed.

“Thank you, Pearl, but I can manage on my own.”

Pearl grinned. “I wonder about that. You and that friend of yours ain’t like the rest of us.” Bethlyn rose from the bed, not aware that Pearl had suddenly stopped speaking or that the woman’s eyes had grown wide when her gaze settled on the bed sheet, still on the bunk. “You
ain’t
like the rest of us,” she said with finality.

Bethlyn turned at the disbelieving tone in the woman’s voice and saw why Pearl sounded so convinced. The crimson color which rose to Bethlyn’s face matched the bright stains of blood on the sheet. Bethlyn looked away, and Pearl industriously went about changing the bed linen. When a knock sounded on the door, Della and the young girl Bethlyn remembered as Annie stood there with a large bucket of water held between them. Pearl ushered them into the room to dump the warm water in the tub, and Bethlyn didn’t miss the hatred festering in Della’s eyes.

Seconds later, the two were gone and Bethlyn stepped into the bath. She fleetingly wondered why Hawk had commissioned Pearl to wait on her, but the bath relieved the tensions which had built inside her after Hawk had left her during the night. She sensed she’d displeased him by her questions and also felt a bit used by him to so cavalierly dress and take his leave. A part of her wondered, now that he’d finally gotten her into his bed, if he’d seek out another woman. Such an easy mark she’d been, throwing herself at him like she’d done. More than once, during the hours alone, she’d asked herself what had gotten into her to act so wantonly.

Pearl handed her a clean towel when she’d finished bathing, and after Bethlyn dried off, she reached for one of the gowns she’d laid on a chair when she’d entered the room. Bethlyn suddenly recognized this and the other two gowns as those she’d packed for her voyage on
Nightingale
. The gown wasn’t one of the most elaborate she owned, those still being at Aunt Penny’s. In fact it was rather plain, but a becoming deep shade of violet with fine cream-colored lace on the cuffs and rounded neckline. Pearl pulled it over Bethlyn’s head and stepped back to admire her charge.

“You are a pretty one, miss, with your beautiful thick hair. An unusual color it is, too, almost like a daffodil, but a deeper shade. No wonder Captain Hawk prefers you over that Della.”

“How do you know that?” Bethlyn dared to ask.

“Well, look at yourself in a mirror sometimes. You’re beautiful and refined. Not like that common Della, not like me. Besides, I was on deck when that Crane fellow was carrying a few of your pretty gowns from
Nightingale
. I guess he’d taken the trunk off the ship, and he came right up to Captain Hawk, Mavis was with him, and told Captain Hawk that you might like your pretties with you. Well, that Della was standing there and she reached out to take one of your dresses, but the captain took her arm and gave her a look that could kill. That was when he motioned to me to bring your clothes to you and told me to tend to you. I think Captain Hawk is right smitten with you, miss.” Pearl smiled a toothy smile and picked up the soiled bed linen.

Bethlyn remembered how he’d left her when he finished making love to her and she disagreed. “I doubt Captain Hawk cares anything for me. I can’t wait until I’m free of the man.”

“Shouldn’t be too long,” Pearl informed her and made for the door. “I heard that Crane fellow tell Mavis that we’ll be reaching shore soon. The voyage is near over.”

A sinking sensation in the pit of Bethlyn’s stomach caused her to sit down. If the voyage was almost over, then they’d probably be set ashore soon. She’d never see Hawk again. Granted, he’d made love to her and left her, and she knew she should be more than glad to be free of him, but a part of her couldn’t bear to be pushed out of his life, never to see him again.

“Did you happen to hear how much longer until we land?”

“No, maybe Mavis or Crane can tell you. Ask Captain Hawk.” Pearl left the cabin.

She wouldn’t ask Hawk anything, somehow afraid he’d assume she might care for him, which she did. The memory of his voice, filled with suspicion the night before, came back to her. For some reason, he didn’t entirely trust her, and if he knew she dreaded the moment when she’d leave him, he might not want to love her again. She sensed he hated clinging women, and in his line of work, he didn’t need entanglements.

Besides, she had a husband in Philadelphia. She’d forgotten him during the last hours and her reason for taking the voyage in the first place. Now, however, Ian Briston didn’t matter. No self-respecting husband would want her, not after he learned she’d been a conquest of the notorious privateer, Hawk. A willing conquest, she reminded herself. Any hope of salvaging her marriage died within her. She’d never have the homelife and children she so desperately wanted. No doubt, she could convince Briston to quietly annul their marriage now. She’d simply have to tell him the truth when she saw him. The solution to ending her marriage appeared so simple to her that she shivered.

With her mind made up about her status as Briston’s wife, Bethlyn turned her thoughts upon Hawk. She knew nothing about him, except that he was a wonderful lover, an expert captain, and she felt a gentle person, but a man who’d been hurt and disillusioned by life too many times. His shell was hard, but his heart was soft. She understood that he had no place in his life for her, but whatever time they had left together, she wanted to fill that time with passion, to savor the memory of his kisses, his embraces, and the fiery need of his body for her.

She’d fill up her heart with memories of Hawk to sustain her for the rest of her life.

10

In the wavering candlelight the high sheen of perspiration glistened on the naked bodies, entwined together. Twin sighs of completion echoed within the cabin, and soon Bethlyn felt the touch of Hawk’s lips upon her forehead. Despite her sexual satisfaction with this man, a feeling of desolation welled within her. She sensed this would be their last night together, though Hawk hadn’t mentioned anything about landing in the morning. When he’d entered the cabin an hour earlier, he’d scooped her up into his strong arms and undressed her in a lazy fashion, almost as if fate had promised them forever.

Bethlyn knew differently.

In the morning he’d bid her farewell, and her heart would break. She vowed she wouldn’t cry. She doubted that tears would move a man like Hawk, but she’d smile bravely and somehow, someway, continue with her life. First off, she’d find Ian Briston and free herself from his shadowy memory. She found she couldn’t remember his face any longer, which was just as well, she told herself. Their marriage was a sham, and she’d be glad to be free.

To be free of Hawk — well, it would take a very long time to be free of his burning kisses, the intimacy of his warm hands on her skin. She lifted herself up on an elbow and gazed down at him, noting that the usually wakeful Hawk slept soundly, something he never did after making love to her. The previous night he’d loved her until dawn crested the horizon and then loved her again after the sun had colored the sky with golden streaks. Hawk was an insatiable lover, and she the willing participant, but he never slept, always leaving her to fall asleep alone.

Now, she noticed that his mouth had grown slack with sleep, and his wonderful, male body fit snugly against hers in a trusting, relaxed state. The only thing which obscured her view of his face was the mask, and the dark scarf which covered his head hid the color of his hair.

She’d never see him after tomorrow, and Bethlyn ached to know what Hawk looked like. Would he be handsome? She didn’t care if he were ugly and bald. This man had given her hours of intense pleasure, had awakened her to the hidden delights of her own body. Somehow, seeing his face would dispel the feeling that she’d dreamt all of this when on land again. She wanted to see his face.