The Pirate and the Puritan (3 page)

Felicity closed her eyes. She’d
intended to tell her father about her relationship with his employees once he’d
warmed to the idea of having her around.

“Father”—she leaned forward,
trying to snare his attention away from Andrews—“I wanted to tell you that—”

“That she booted out your man and
now runs the New England Trading Company’s Boston office?” Andrews pushed away
from the desk, grabbed the back of her chair and whipped her around to face
him. “Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”

She gripped the smooth wood seat
to keep from falling out of it, his close presence nearly unnerving her. For
the first time in her life, all she could do was turn a pleading gaze on her
father. This was not how she’d envisioned sharing this news with her father.

She watched as he leaned his head
into his hand, his thick fingers covering his eyes. “How could you do something
like this, Felicity?”

The hurt in his question urged
her to rush to his side, but Andrews’s hulking form blocked her from even
standing. “The man you hired was incompetent. You should be thanking me.”

Andrews squared his shoulders,
straining the frills on his shirt and revealing there were muscles beneath the
silk. “You are a huge problem, woman.”

With every ounce of strength,
Felicity rose from the chair to her full height, hoping he’d have the good
sense to step out of her way. She was no wisp of a woman, yet he towered over
her. She wondered if he donned those high heels vain men found so fashionable.
She refused to lower her gaze to check. But meeting his assault directly was a
mistake. He stared at her with such single-minded intensity that she instantly
wanted to dart her gaze away like a silly girl. How in the world did he pass
himself off as anything other than a common thug in nice clothing?

“Where is Master Marley?” she
asked.

She had some satisfaction when he
flinched, however slightly.

“That’s why we’re so upset over
your arrival.” Her father’s voice sounded near to breaking. “There’s been a
terrible tragedy.”

She nailed Andrews with her best
glare. His nearness made her all too aware of the fact that he was a man, and
she a woman. She’d vowed no other man would be allowed to affect her that way,
make her vulnerable and wanting and entirely too breathless. When he still
wouldn’t budge, she had no choice but to brush past.

He caught her wrist. “You’re not
listening to us.”

She gasped in outrage. “Who do
you think you are?”

“Someone you don’t want to know.”

She tried to jerk her arm away,
but he held her snuggly, slightly increasing the pressure. She guessed he
wanted her to cower. Instead, she challenged his scalding stare with her own,
unflinching under the will he tried to exert on her. And then something in him
softened, causing his face to once again transform into one she suspected he
worked hard to hide. She realized, without the paint, his face would be
devastatingly handsome.

She felt his grip loosen and his
thumb gently rub her wrist as he dropped his gaze to her mouth. His breathing
changed, deepened. The rhythm lulled her head back, forced her lips to part
slightly. She caught herself before she licked them in invitation. His change
in tactics couldn’t have been any more diabolical though she found herself
wondering why she didn’t simply slap his face at his boldness. And she didn’t
want to, which surprised her even more.

“Please, Drew. Manhandling
Felicity won’t erase what happened to Beatrice.”

Her father’s reprimand met with
instant success. Drew, as her father called him, released her and stepped back,
blinking as if he’d just been abruptly awakened. She felt the same.

“She’s going to get herself
killed,” Drew said, more to himself than her father.

Felicity turned to her father,
clasping her hands. The name Drew reminded her of a gangly boy she’d known as a
child who’d had too much confidence for his own good. This man wasn’t any
different. And she might have been able to believe it if the heat from his long
fingers didn’t linger so upon her skin, disrupting her breath and her
equilibrium. A slight flutter in her woman’s heart warned this man was most
likely a rake as well as a suspected thief.

She replaced her emotion with
ire, and turned it on her father. “How can you associate with such a person?
What did he do to Marley’s wife?” Her suspicions now were that it had something
to do with his effect on the supposedly weaker sex. The beast.

Her father gripped the edge of
his cluttered desk. “
He
didn’t do anything. He’s just trying to make you
understand the seriousness of what’s happened. The danger you’re in.”

Felicity flung a glance over her
shoulder. Drew—the man with more bluff than bluster, which was how she decided
to think of him from then on—walked to the far side of the small office. His
head remained lowered, she guessed with great effort, and his fists were shoved
in his pockets. His true character tore a hole in his fancy satin exterior, and
they both knew it.

She only hoped her own inherent
wantonness hadn’t been obvious to him. She couldn’t tell at all, which added to
her own confusion.

“The only danger I’m in is from
your new partner,” she said.

Her father shook his head. When
she opened her mouth to elaborate on Drew’s bad behavior, her father held up a
hand to stop her.

“Marley’s been murdered.
Beatrice, too.”

“Murdered?” Felicity slid back
into her chair, her courage punctured. Marley and his wife killed? She glanced
at Drew, unable to imagine him the culprit. Swindler, perhaps. Murderer, no.
Even in her own confusion, she sensed that. “Who would want to hurt Master
Marley?”

“Pirates. At least that is the
rumor.” Her father’s glance at Drew warned her he knew more than he was saying.

“I don’t understand. Was Master
Marley on one of your ships? As I remember, he hated to be under sail.”
Felicity studied her father’s new business partner for hints at the demise of his
predecessor. The way he kept his head lowered added credence to Felicity’s
growing suspicions. Surely, he hadn’t committed the crimes, but they had
something to do with him. Of that she was certain. What wasn’t he telling her?

Her father shuffled the papers on
his desk. “Marley and his wife were murdered in their home. He’d recently
purchased a large house on an isolated cove for Beatrice. I warned him against
flaunting our good fortune. You see now why you must return to Boston.”

“If these pirates are bold enough
to attack on land, they certainly wouldn’t hesitate to pluck one of your ships
at sea.” Felicity did not have to feign the fear that shook her voice.

Drew straightened. “I’ve already
booked your passage on another merchant’s ship.”

“But as you pointed out, Lord
Christian”—she practically choked on the title—“my association with the New
England Trading Company is widely known. If the pirates are looking for
ransom…I’d be a lamb sent to the slaughter.”

Her father stood. “That can’t
happen. I won’t let that happen. And after what befell Beatrice… Drew, you have
to do something.”

Drew moved toward them. Was there
true concern in his eyes?

“The Royal Navy makes rounds
through the English colonies. We’ll find her passage on the first ship
scheduled for Boston.”

Felicity kept her mouth closed,
refusing to argue the point. She was staying, whether they knew it or not.
She’d use the delay wisely, and Drew would be the one leaving with the Royal
Navy—in chains, if she had her way, once she discovered the truth.

He stopped in front of her chair.
“I expect you to lie low while you’re here.”

She smiled at him. “But of
course. In fact, I can just tidy Father’s ledgers. I’m sure you won’t mind if I
have a look at the New England Trading Company’s books.”

“By all means, keep yourself
busy.” He bowed at the waist. “Just don’t overstep your place again. Even in
paradise the snakes are poisonous.”

He exited through the door,
leaving with that last word. Felicity wasn’t sure if she’d been threatened or
warned. Either way, she had a mystery to unravel. What lay beneath Lord
Christian Andrews’s powdered facade was the first loose string.

Samantha Linley’s breath tickled
Drew’s ear. “Christian, you must meet me later. It’s been too long.”

Piles of coarse black hair, with
only a snail’s trail of silvery-gray to hint at the age of its owner, irritated
his cheek, leaving him with the urge to swat her away like a fly. He stared at
the ripple of moonlight riding the waves, doing his best to ignore her.

In an attempt to escape Linley
Hall’s brightly lit drawing room, he had slipped out onto the back terrace
overlooking the sea. Unfortunately, his departure had not gone unnoticed.

The heavy scent of wild jasmine
struggled above the cloying perfume worn by his hostess, reminding Drew that
the Linleys’ attempt to overpower the indigenous vegetation with English roses
had failed miserably. The idea made him smile.

Samantha’s right hand strayed
brazenly low in its measuring of his torso. He grabbed her wrists and placed them
by her side. “Sam, darling, it’s good to see you haven’t lost your bravado.
Philip must find you endlessly amusing.” He released her then.

The memory of his confrontation
with Felicity still haunted him. Pleasuring women with his touch remained one
of his greatest joys, but he wanted nothing more than to throttle Felicity
Kendall. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. A glimpse of her full mouth had jolted
him out of his anger and on to a much more dangerous emotion. But he couldn’t
afford to be attracted to the woman. And if he forgot again, he’d force himself
to remember Beatrice Marley. Even if there was no solid evidence that Marley
and his wife had been killed because of their association with him, the rumors
insinuating that
El Diablo
had taken a hand in the occurrence made it
almost a certainty.

Samantha stuck out her lower lip
in an exaggerated pout, regaining his attention. “How can you mention my
husband when you know it’s you I want to amuse? It’s cruel of you to ignore me
for so long. Where have you been hiding, Lord Christian?”

Drew longed for the persona of
Lord Christian to disappear. If he had a choice, he’d be free of this place,
chasing the tail of the moon across the water. His role as the wayward youngest
son of an English duke had lost its ironic appeal.

Unfortunately, the character he’d
created to account for the goods he’d been stealing rather than importing from
England saved his bloody neck at the moment.

Drew shrugged. “All that business
with my partner’s murder put a damper on my social schedule. I didn’t want to
be the center of another scandal before poor Richard’s ashes cooled.”

“You’re concerned over social
improprieties? I thought you thrived on scandal.” Samantha’s hands rested on
her hips in a mock display of temper.

He suspected she orchestrated the
position to allow him a better view of her plunging décolletage. He feared if
she moved too quickly her entire nipple would be in plain view, but knowing
Samantha, that was her intention.

Turning away from the ocean, he
leaned against the stone wall surrounding the terrace. It would be an easy
thing for him to escape this party and follow the hidden trail that led from
the plantation to the beach. He no doubt knew the house and lands better than
its current owners. Revealing he’d spent his youth toiling away on this very
plantation would almost be worth the look of horror on Sam’s face.

Drew forced himself to take a
deep breath and let it out again. To even consider such thoughts at a time like
this warned he was slipping. When a warm breeze caressed his thigh instead of
Samantha’s overheated hand, Drew tried to relax.

“Things have changed. I’m not the
man I used to be.”

Sam placed her palm on the front
of his sedate brown jacket and began again her slow exploration of his body.
This time she paced herself, veering her hand up toward his shoulder in
correction of her earlier indiscretion. “I see this new somberness extends to
your wardrobe, too. I hope you’re still the same decadent man in bed. I’d be
eternally heartbroken if that changed. This godforsaken island would be
unbearable without my little amusements.”

Staring up at the fat
three-quarter moon allowed him to avoid her heavily painted face. Funny, he
couldn’t recall why he’d ever found her remotely attractive.

Bedding the mistress of the
plantation where he’d been an indentured servant represented a twisted sort of
justice, he supposed. The change in proprietorship hadn’t mattered. Now he
could consider himself truly equal to those he mocked. The sudden realization
ruined any satisfaction he’d gained from his licentious affair with Samantha
Linley.

She balled his velvet lapel in
her clenched fist. “Who is she?”

Movement from the doorway caught
Drew’s attention. Felicity Kendall appeared on the edge of the terrace, light
spilling from behind her. Shadows hid her face, but he recognized the erect
posture of an avenging angel.

He could only guess how much
she’d witnessed. No matter. He was certain she’d already formed an opinion and
waited anxiously to flog him with it. Maybe that jolt of attraction which had
kept him awake these last few nights had been nothing more than a much needed
antidote to the sameness he’d begun to find in every woman he met, or perhaps
it was something more. As disastrous as it would be, he longed for something
more.

Samantha followed his gaze, then
quickly put a respectable distance between them. Felicity charged in their
direction, and Drew acknowledged the real reason he’d accepted the Linleys’
invitation. He’d wanted to see this woman again.