Beautiful Tempest

by Johanna Lindsey

  Damon’s parents had told him that Captain Hawke was a planter, but Damon thought he looked like a real pirate.

  Mortimer thought so, too. The man was big and muscular and never had a friendly countenance. Damon had never seen another man who looked as menacing as his neighbor did. But Mortimer wouldn’t go with him to throw rocks at the pirate’s house to prove they weren’t afraid of him. Damon did that on his own. He just wanted the man to go away, back to sea, back to pirating elsewhere, and never come back. He got that wish, but the consequences had been devastating.

  But that day, he didn’t realize where his mother was hurrying to until he saw that giant neighbor of theirs waiting for them on his porch. Damon thought she was taking him there so the pirate could punish him for breaking his windows. His seven-year-old imagination went wild, envisioning the horrible tortures Captain Hawke had planned for him.

  Damon balked. “No!”

  “Damon, please, we need to hurry.”

  “You can’t turn me over to him!”

  “What? No, you mis—”

  He’d already broken away from his mother and was running back home. She yelled after him, but he wouldn’t stop even though he heard the tears in her voice when she called his name, which brought tears to his eyes, too, yet he couldn’t go back to face that man.

  Crying, she screamed a promise that she would come back for him. At least he thought she did, hoped she did, but he wouldn’t turn around to find out for certain. Because of him.

  His mother left with the man. And she never came back. His father was just as devastated by her desertion as Damon was, but he was furious, too, and swore he’d kill Hawke when he returned. Year after year, Damon waited for her to come back for him, but she never did. Neither did Hawke or his son, whom Damon had only ever seen a couple of times. Nor would they return, because the very next year, the captain’s plantation was sold by an agent. Only years later did Damon suspect Hawke had seduced his mother into leaving her family. Why else would she abandon them? That’s when he started to hate Captain Hawke.

  But he should never have approached the man the night he saw him again in London four years ago, because he hadn’t been sober or able to control his feelings of suspicion and hatred for the man. All he’d done was shout, “Where is my mother?” Actually, he’d done more, he’d also grabbed Hawke’s lapels, which got him a single punch that knocked him on his arse and landed him in the hospital. When he woke up, a doctor was poking at him and telling him that he’d cracked his head in a fall.

  He’d searched for Hawke again every chance he got when he was able to leave Oxford, but no one knew the name and Damon never saw him again. Until the day Damon and Mortimer were sailing home to the islands. Damon had been waiting for a hackney outside his hotel when he spotted Hawke and another man in a carriage. He’d had to run through the streets to keep up with them. They’d stopped at a sporting hall and gone inside. He’d followed them. The excited chatter and wagers flying around the hall revealed they were brothers, lords, and that the man he’d known only as Captain Hawke was actually James Malory, Viscount Ryding.

  Damon had watched the fight for a few minutes. It had been brutal. He’d questioned the young gentlemen around him and learned that Malory lived with his wife and children in Berkeley Square. He’d married Damon’s mother?! Damon had immediately gone to find the house and asked to see James’s wife, but a rude butler had slammed the door shut in his face after saying, “Lady Georgina ain’t receiving.”

  But Georgina wasn’t his mother’s name. Devastated once again to be unable to find out what had happened to his mother, and out of time with his ship soon sailing, he knew his questions would have to wait until he returned to England. But what he found when he got home to Jamaica changed all that.

  “I thought you two were getting along, but it looks like she’s giving you the cold shoulder.” Mortimer joined him at the wheel, but nodded toward Jacqueline’s back. “I got the black eye, she didn’t, so I’m not apologizing to her.”

  “No, she’s over that . . . well, she might not be if she sees you,” Damon said quietly. “But we need to step things up before the winds turn warm.”

  “And her father catches up to us.”

  “He’s going to be a week or two behind us, he’s not catching up, we’ll end up waiting for him in St. Kitts.”

  “I’ll skip that first meeting, if it’s all the same to you, now that we know he really was a pirate back then, not just what we assumed when we were younguns.”

  Damon grinned. “Lacross said that Hawke was worse than he ever was, which is hard to imagine, considering we know what he did to Andrew.”

  Mortimer scoffed. “I wouldn’t believe a word out of that old pirate’s mouth. He just wants to kill the man responsible for defeating him and tossing him in prison. And you, hating Hawke as you do, are more than willing to help Lacross get his wish.”

  “That was then—”

  “You mean before you met his pretty daughter.”

  Damon gave his friend a quelling look. “Don’t mix the issues.”

  “They’re already mixed.”

  “No, they aren’t. I do this for only one reason. My father. But I don’t expect to have to fight Malory to get him into Warden Bennett’s office. I can think of other ways to do that. Have you found out how many of the new men we can count on?”

  “Only three. I think the others are scared of the pirates and won’t do anything other than hide when the fighting starts. I don’t think they’ll join in on the other side, though.”

  “So that’s five of us, and hopefully Jack’s brother and possibly his friend. Still not good odds without a decent plan.”

  “So we did capture her brother? I’m surprised she gave that up.”

  “She didn’t. It just became obvious the more she lied about it.”

  “Lied about what?” Jacqueline asked as she approached.

  She was glaring at Mortimer, who snorted at her in response and left. Damon decided to get her attention on something else. “Perhaps a dress tonight for dinner? That’s if you have any left that you haven’t ripped up for britches?”

  “I believe we’ve had this discussion about my preferences. And I’ve only ripped up one. Jackie packed thread to adjust his pants in case he outgrew them before reaching land again, but I already used up most of it.”

  Damon shrugged. “I merely thought you might want to look a little more ladylike for our guests this evening.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  JACQUELINE DIDN’T ASK, DIDN’T need to. No one was aboard other than Jeremy and Percy that Damon would call “our guests.” He’d tied off the wheel and escorted her to the cabin so she could have her bath and prepare herself—hours before dinner. Did he think she was like other debutantes who spent all day primping for an event? Did he even know any other debutantes? She’d laughed anyway, couldn’t help it, she was so excited.

  Damon arrived first near the dinner hour with a full bottle of brandy in hand, but paused to sweep his eyes over her and the deep rose gown she’d picked for the occasion. He might have ordered her clothes in the right sizes, but he hadn’t specified debutante colors to the dressmaker.

  “Magnificently feminine again.” He grinned. “But I confess I was getting used to your shapely britches.”

  “The dress was your idea.”

  “Not for me, but for your friends.” He put the bottle on his desk, then continued on to his clothes chest and donned a black jacket. With his white shirt and black trousers, and his black hair still wind-tossed about his shoulders, he looked rather dashing.

  He moved back to his desk but merely leaned against it, his eyes moving slowly over her again. “And thank you for ignoring the evening gown. I’m not sure I could have survived that one.”

  She blushed slightly since she knew what he was referring to. The single evening gown in the trunk would have revealed far too much bosom, which she wasn’t willing to share with him.

  Percy c
ame through the open door next. She was pleased to see him looking splendid, though definitely rumpled with no valet to attend to his attire, the same attire he’d been wearing in London. At least the wrinkles in his clothing indicated that he and her brother had been allowed to wash their clothes from time to time.

  With a slight bow to Damon, Percy quipped, “My condolences, Captain Reeves.”

  “For?” Damon asked.

  Percy gave Jack a quick hug before stating, “For the day her father gets his hands on you. Brutal with his fists, unparalleled with a pistol. I daresay you won’t—”

  “I get the idea,” Damon cut in drily.

  Jacqueline, frowning over what Percy had just called Damon, said, “You told him your last name but you wouldn’t tell me? Or is that not your real name?”

  “It is now.”

  She rolled her eyes at Damon’s cryptic reply. Typical name-changing pirate, she guessed. But then Jeremy arrived, and even though he looked hale and hearty, she still started crying as she ran to put her arms around him, careful not to squeeze hard in case his ribs were still sore. He’d left his wrinkled jacket behind in his cabin. His hair was loose and so much longer that now he looked more the pirate than a London gentleman.

  Jeremy whispered to her, “Is our presence the result of your trying the Reggie approach? Or because he came by last night and saw that my bruises have faded?”

  “He was using your wounds as an excuse to keep me from actually seeing you.”

  “Ah, so that’s why he said you won’t cry now when you see me. Well, you weren’t supposed to.” Jeremy chuckled, wiping a tear from her cheek.

  “It’s such a relief to see you’ve recovered, Jer.”

  But behind them she heard Damon say, “That settles that, brother after all. I’m glad to see we can dispense with the lies.”

  She swung around. “So you were just humoring me by not calling me a liar?”

  “I did want to applaud a few times because you delivered your lines so well, Jack. But be easy. Nothing has changed other than this is a night for truths. Shall we?” Damon waved a hand toward the table and walked over to it.

  Jack turned back to Jeremy first and gave him a significant look, saying softly, “I had hoped we could take the ship from him and sail home, but that was before I saw how many men are on it.”

  “I’d rather continue on to save Father, but what truths is he talking about?”

  “I don’t know, but he’s implied we’re not here for the reason we think.”

  Jeremy chucked her chin with a grin. “Then let’s hear him out and play it by ear.”

  She nodded and took her usual seat at the table. Jeremy and Percy sat on the sides nearest her, which left Damon isolated at the other end. But he hadn’t sat down yet. He went to the door to signal they were ready for the meal.

  Jackie had the help of two sailors tonight in bringing everything in. A bottle of wine, glasses, four plates filled with food, and a tray of desserts. Four? Jack realized that Mortimer wasn’t coming to help keep the peace. No doubt guards were standing outside the opened door to do that. Then Damon closed the door and took his seat. He was obviously confident that he could manage all three of them if it came to that, which was possible considering how damned strong and fast he was. Then again, he could simply be armed. A single pistol would stay their hands.

  “Any relation to the East Sussex Reeveses?” Percy asked Damon as Jackie filled his glass.

  “It’s just a fake name, Percy,” Jacqueline put in.

  “No, it’s my legal name,” Damon said. “It was a stipulation of my great-grandfather’s will that I take the family name to receive his estate. Yes, those Reeveses, Lord Percival.”

  “Know the property, ’deed I do,” Percy mentioned. “Lovely location and quite large as I recall, though that was years ago. Went there as a child with my mum. Was there a title involved?”

  “No, he was a second son. The titles are on my grandmother’s side. She’s the only relative I was able to locate while I was in England. Unfortunately, she’s quite tetched with the loss of her memories, doesn’t recognize her own servants, didn’t even remember her own daughter, my mother. And she swears she doesn’t have a grandson, so after my first visit with her I have been repeatedly turned away from the house that’s now mine. Quite frustrating.”

  The wry smile had Percy say, “I had a great-aunt like that. She would fire servants just because she didn’t recognize them.”

  “As does my grandmother.”

  “Then how did you find out about the inheritance?”

  “There was one old servant who’d been there long enough to know my mother and refused to leave when she kept getting fired. She despised me without reason and wouldn’t answer a single question I had about the family, but apparently, she sent word to the family’s solicitor to complain about my first visit, and he tracked me down.”

  “Which begs the question,” Jeremy said drily, “if what you just said is true, what are you doing here on a pirate ship, working for a pirate, and abducting a young lady and two noblemen?”

  “I’m temporarily committed to another path.”

  Jacqueline waited for him to say more and was incredulous when he didn’t. “I could have sworn you said this was a night for truths.”

  “The night is young.”

  She probably looked as angry as she was at his evasion because Jeremy nodded toward the bottle of brandy on the desk, saying to Damon, “How about a drinking contest after dinner, mate? First man to pass out loses.”

  “But you can’t be beat at that game, old chap,” Percy reminded Jeremy. “Everyone knows it.”

  “He didn’t,” Jeremy growled at their friend.

  Percy looked so abashed that Jack refrained from kicking him. Percy let information roll off his tongue without the first thought to consequences and always had. This part of his endearing charm was usually amusing—at least for anyone not keeping the secrets he inadvertently revealed.

  Damon laughed at the byplay. “Just out of curiosity, what prize were you after, Malory?”

  “Full freedom aboard your ship.”

  “And the prize you were willing to offer me?”

  Jeremy shot to his feet. “Not beating the living hell out of you.”

  Damon didn’t stand up as well, but he did raise a brow. “So is that contest still on the table?”

  “No, it’s not,” Jacqueline interjected sharply, and motioned to Jeremy to sit back down. “At least not tonight. Can we first hear why Damon invited you here?”

  “Yes, you can,” Damon said. “We’re nearly to the Caribbean. I can no longer wait to form an alliance with the three of you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  JEREMY LAUGHED. “I’M SORRY, did you expect a response to that other than laughter?”

  Jacqueline had been about to laugh, too, but she frowned instead, guessing that Damon had suggested an alliance because he was truly worried about the pirates on his crew.

  “I’m not out to harm Jack or your father,” Damon assured Jeremy.

  “Liar, you want him dead!” Jeremy retorted.

  “I never wanted him dead. I just have other objectives that involve him. Jack’s presence was and is nothing more than a means to an end for me, a way of luring your father into helping me put Lacross back in prison.”

  Jacqueline’s anger flared. “When you took me from Bridgeport, you had every intention of turning me over to Pierre Lacross! If you try to deny that, we’re done talking.”

  “I had no intention of turning you over to them. That was part of Catherine and her father’s plan, and I’d been assured you wouldn’t be hurt, but I had doubts from the start. I just wanted to draw your father to Lacross’s hideaway—”

  “Which is located where?” Jeremy interjected.

  Damon ignored his question. “At the time, I didn’t really care who won that fight, I just expected there would be a fight, not a willing surrender that would have been a slaughter. Mo
rt was to get you off the ship in St. Kitts while I took Catherine ashore so she wouldn’t notice. But you escaped on your own before he could help you.”

  “If that’s true, you wouldn’t have sunk all those ships in Bridgeport!” Jacqueline said.

  “And if I didn’t, how do you think the situation would have progressed? I didn’t want to end up dead or imprisoned after a fight at sea with your relatives. Besides, my intent was just to get your father’s attention.”

  “Now I know you’re lying,” Jack said. “You had nearly a week to tell me that and didn’t.”

  “You were too angry, and all your anger was directed at me. I didn’t know you well enough then not to think you might scream that I was a traitor just to get even with me, and to hell with the consequences.”

  Jeremy asked her, “Would you have done that?”

  “Possibly,” she mumbled. “I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly during that kidnapping.”

  Jeremy pointed out to Damon, “Why would it matter at that point if Catherine knew you weren’t on their side—unless you still were?”

  “Because until Lacross is either killed or captured, I still need the pirate to think I am helping him. When I took Jack away from Bridgeport, I expected your family to follow us straight to Lacross and finish him off. Instead Catherine blamed me for letting Jack go, I was thrown in their dungeon, and your father didn’t show up as I’d hoped.”

  Jacqueline sighed. “And yet here we are once again your hostages, and you wonder why it’s impossible to believe you?”

  “I agree,” Jeremy said angrily. “You’re painting yourself pretty clean in all of this, mate, yet once again you’re leading my father to his death.”

  “I never wanted him dead,” Damon said just as angrily this time. “But I have other objectives that involve him.”