The Pirate and the Puritan (29 page)

She waited for Drew to come to
her, to touch her shoulders in an act of compassion. She would shrug off his
attempt, proving to him and herself that she would no longer be his pawn. The
pressure of his touch never came. She hadn’t believed she could feel any worse.
She was wrong.

Obviously, he didn’t intend to
carry the game further than his token look of hurt at her accusation. The
anguish she thought she glimpsed might have been an expression used out of
habit. Surprise was curiously absent from his display. Perhaps he’d expected
her to discover him. Perhaps he’d intended to kill her all along.

When she turned to bravely face
that possibility, ready and willing for a fight, she didn’t imagine anything so
ruthless. He stood where she’d left him, staring at the flag crumpled on the
floor.

He looked up at her with wide
eyes and damp lashes. “Felicity, what can I say to make you—”

“Don’t bother saying anything. I
talked to McCulla. I know everything.” She found the strength to stare at him
coldly. He wouldn’t know how much he hurt her or how close she came to falling
into his arms in spite of everything.

The moment of vulnerability left
Drew’s wet gaze. His features hardened. “I won’t deny I’m
El Diablo
. The
Spanish gave me the name five years ago. How the hell was I supposed to know it
would bloody stick?”

She heard the anger under his
words. Let him be angry. She could bear his cool aloofness and his anger, but
not his mock concern.

“You lived up to the name, didn’t
you? Will you kill me once you’ve tired of me? McCulla wanted to know.” Drew
didn’t answer, but for the first time in their acquaintance he looked truly
murderous. She stepped back with the realization that despite her emotional
devastation, she had no desire to die after all. The crimes he’d committed
against her thus far were nothing in comparison to those of which he was
capable.

He stalked her, backing her into
the wall. Anguish over her broken heart hadn’t left room for her to consider
that he could actually stop the organ from beating altogether. The furious set
of his jaw rapidly changed her mind.

“How would you like it done,
love? After all we’ve been to each other, it seems too ordinary to just skewer
you with a cutlass or slit your throat. I know—perhaps I should strangle you
with my bare hands.” He wrapped his fingers around her neck. “Isn’t this much
more intimate? And I won’t be bothered with any blood in my cabin.”

His rough fingers covered her
neck, his touch mockingly gentle. Her traitorous body interpreted the contact
as a prelude to something more sensual than strangulation. Damn him for
touching her with a lover’s caress rather than a murderer’s grip. His hold
slackened and his hands slid down to her shoulders. He caressed the hollow of
her neck with his thumb.

“For one moment...did you think I
could ever hurt you?”

Of all the treacherous things the
chameleon could do, he’d turned the shade that left her most vulnerable. The
soft pleading in his eyes was more dangerous to her than his callused hands
around her neck

Her arms came up between them,
violently breaking his embrace. “Is that the look you gave Beatrice Marley
before you sliced her open? I won’t shut my eyes in a pretty swoon while you do
your dirty work. I’ll curse you until I’ve taken my very last breath.”

Drew looked at her as if seeing
her for the first time. Without another word, he strode to the door. Before he
reached his destination, he abruptly turned to face her again. Self-preservation
sharpened her instincts. He wouldn’t take her by surprise.

His tight jaw pulsed with
suppressed violence. “Don’t worry that I’ll kill you, love, though you are
sorely tempting me. I don’t care for men, and I’ve nothing else in which to
spill my lust. You’ve served your purpose too well to destroy just yet.”

She wished he had strangled her.
On pure impulse, she rushed him, but he caught her wrists before her nails
could draw blood. His show of superior strength fanned her outrage. She kicked
him in the shin and anywhere else she could reach. He tried to dodge her
onslaught by holding her away from him, but her aching toe told her she’d
gotten him at least once.

The fruitless struggle brought
her quickly back to her senses. Her violent outburst plainly displayed the
ravaged soul she had desperately wanted to hide. He had taken away even her
pride. She gave up with a defeated sob, yanking herself free of his grip.

She turned her back on him as
tears rolled down her face. “Get out. I never want to see you again.”

“This is my cabin. I’m afraid
you’ll have to see me again,” he said in a thin, brittle voice.

She struggled to remain on her
feet. Pain consumed her. He had to be out of the room before sorrow overtook
her. Tomorrow she would be stronger, but not today. “Then leave me alone. I
know who you are. I know what you are.”

Drew said nothing, but she could
still feel him standing behind her. She had to say something, anything, to make
him leave. “Your game is over and we’re all losers. Richard Marley and his poor
wife, and God knows how many others died by your hands. If my father joins your
list of victims, I swear I’ll find a way to send you to hell.”

“I’m already well acquainted with
hell. I’m the devil, remember?”

She heard his departure but
waited for the lock to click before she fell to her knees. Each sob burned her
already swollen eyes and bruised her aching chest, but still she could not
stop. After today, she’d force herself to act with all the strength she
possessed. Her wretched tenacity would get her out of bed in the morning, even
though she wanted to go to sleep forever. That same unyielding will would allow
her to destroy a man she still loved any way she could.

***

The cabin door’s thick wood
muffled what Drew guessed were Felicity’s sobs. Drew rested the back of his
head against the sturdy portal, for a moment not entirely sure whether the
noise came from inside his own head or from the other side of the door. For the
rest of his life, he would hear her broken cries in the darkness of his mind.
If he moved away from the room, maybe he could block out the sound, but he had
nowhere to go. He could not let anyone see him like this. The tears Felicity
freely wept were trapped inside him. Recriminations ate him alive.

He’d wanted to comfort her, wrap
his arms around her, but she’d made it plain she loathed the touch of a
murderer. She had been correct in laying the blame for Marley and Beatrice’s
deaths squarely at his feet. He might not have killed them by his own hand, but
if not for their association with him, they’d be alive today.

Drew walked away from the cabin,
unable to bear being so close to Felicity without holding her. An orange haze
filled the companionway, signaling late afternoon would soon give way to
evening. He braced his back against the hull and waited. Dusk would allow him
to hide in the shadows above deck.

When Felicity had believed him to
be the man who’d murdered a man he’d once called a friend and a helpless woman
in cold blood, he’d been beyond hurt and bloody well furious. In truth, Drew
should have killed Marley once he’d revealed to Ben his plan to turn Drew in to
save himself from possible exposure. But Ben had told Drew in confidence, and
even if he hadn’t, Drew doubted he’d have been able to do in Marley, and
certainly not his wife. That act in itself had been the first nail in his
coffin. A pirate who shied away from ruthlessness didn’t survive.

Now, Drew had committed an even
graver error. He’d left himself open to the opinion of a woman. After they'd
made love, he would lie in bed surrounded by darkness and Felicity, and things
he thought he’d forgotten had been pulled from him like rotten teeth. Throbbing
memories of his childhood and of his family, to his surprise not all
heartbreaking, evaporated in the sweet heat of the cabin. How could she see him
as the fiend described by McCulla? But her accusations strayed too close to the
truth. He’d finally been forced to see himself through her eyes.

The games he’d been playing had
cost too many innocent lives. If Ben’s name was added to the growing list, it
would be as good as killing his friend with his own hands.

He’d repaid the man’s kindness by
dragging him along to spit in the face of England, society in general and even
the devil. And as if that wasn’t enough, Drew had taken Felicity to his bed
while running from the hangman’s noose.

Now his sire was calling in his
due, and Marley, Beatrice and possibly Ben were forced to pay with their lives.
Thus far, Felicity only had to sacrifice her heart. Though it physically
sickened him for her to believe him a ruthless killer, he couldn’t blame her.
The overwhelming evidence almost convinced him he was the one and only
El
Diablo
.

He pushed himself away from the
hull in disgust. His phantom persona couldn’t take the blame for the disastrous
end to Drew’s relationship with Felicity. She had seen through him from the
very beginning. He had kept things from her, not actually lied, but never told
her the whole truth about anything. That was the way he had always lived.

Drew emerged on deck to find a
waning moon struggling through a veil of dark clouds. Night promised to be
swift and black. He strode across the deck, not doubting his face looked as
menacing as the sky. Felicity deserved better than the half-truths he’d doled
out. He’d smiled and only told her what he wanted her to hear. Somehow, he’d
expected her to find out in the end, but he hadn’t anticipated the knowledge
would rip him apart.

He should have apologized or at
least taken his due like a man, but instead he’d acted like the bastard he was
and always would be.

He’d lashed out at her for
forcing him to care about what she thought. Her belief in McCulla’s tale left
him feeling betrayed. The disgust in her eyes stopped him from defending
himself. At least if he had tried, she might not despise him now.

Let her hate him. She’d still be
close to him, but as his prisoner. He had told her he was already acquainted
with hell, but the word he’d tossed around flippantly was about to take on new
meaning.

His aimless wandering returned
him to the door of his cabin. He braced his hands on either side of the portal.
Having Felicity in his bed every night and not being able to touch her would be
torture. The days would be worse. He’d have to avoid his cabin altogether.
Felicity would skewer him with venomous glares or slap him with verbal
accusations.

He fought the urge to fling open
the door and promise anything that would make her look at him again through
sleepy, sated eyes. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Even if he gave in to his
weak impulse, nothing he could say or do would bring her back to him. He walked
away from the cabin in no particular direction.

***

Sometime before dawn, Felicity
heard Drew’s footsteps. She had retreated to bed, hoping the pretense of sleep
would ease her emotional turmoil. It hadn’t. Drew’s approach proved that. She
cursed her racing heart, willing herself to breathe deeply and her body to
relax. Feigning sleep would forestall a confrontation for which she was not yet
prepared.

He sank down on her side of the
bed. Earlier, she had scooted to the edge of the large mattress. In the event
he wished to sleep in his own bed, she thought the distance easier for both of
them. Apparently, he had other ideas. His closeness stole her breath.

Behind the shelter of her closed
eyes, she could feel his gaze on her, hear his breathing. Each second seemed an
eternity. He just sat, nothing else. If his intention was to sleep, an expanse
of empty bed loomed on her other side. His purpose in the room had everything
to do with her. Had he decided to smother her while she slept?

She pictured her demise, hoping
to dispel the deep desire to have him touch her. She had forced herself to
imagine every brutal crime Drew had ever committed in an attempt to make
herself stop mourning her lost love. For the second time in her life, the man
who had stolen her heart didn’t exist.

In Drew’s case, she’d been
unsuccessful in convincing herself of that. Too late, she realized she’d never
really loved Erik. She had used him as an excuse to stretch the bounds of her
sheltered life. His advances had met a willing partner.

If she weren’t so busy testing
her wings, she might have noticed Erik was a scoundrel before he left Boston
with her father’s money. Though Drew’s reputation made her first lover look like
a saint, in the deepest recesses of her heart she could not see Drew for what
he was. God help her but she still loved him.

He picked up a lock of her hair.
Instead of preparing for the attack she should expect, she lay perfectly still,
fearing he’d stop if he knew her awake. He gingerly replaced the strand, then
leaned so close, she could feel his breath on her cheek. If he kissed her,
she’d throw her arms around him and remember to hate him all the more in the
morning.

With his arms braced on either side
of her, he hovered as close as he could without actually touching her. After a
moment, she realized he was smelling her hair.

“Please forgive me,” he whispered
in the tangles next to her ear.

In that moment, Felicity knew she
would. She’d forgive him anything and in the process lose every ounce of
respect for herself. When he was near, she didn’t even care.

He straightened but lingered
beside her a moment longer before standing. She clutched the sheet under her
fingers to keep from reaching out to him. Until she heard the door close, she
didn’t realize he’d left the room.

She flung back the covers and
swung her feet to the floor. “Drew!” The cabin’s dark silence forced her to
consider whether Drew’s presence was just a desperate dream.