The Diamond King

by Patricia Potter

  “You did not tell me that the Duc d’Estaige was one of your backers,” the governor probed.

  “I have many backers,” the captain replied cautiously. “Not all want their names used. It might be politically unwise for them. My wife does not understand such things.”

  “Women rarely understand business matters,” the governor agreed.

  Jenna clenched her teeth at the patronizing words. She knew exactly why the captain said them but they grated, anyway. She looked at the governor’s wife.

  A flash of resentment sparked in Gabrielle’s eyes, too.

  A life of quiet desperation, Jenna thought. Was that what she had bargained for when she had accepted David Murray’s proposal?

  She turned to Gabrielle. “Do you have children?”

  The woman’s face brightened. “Oui, deux garçons et deux filles.”

  Jenna seized upon the opportunity to take the conversation away from herself. “Please tell me about them.”

  She kept Gabrielle busy talking about her children, listening with one ear to the discussion at the table, wondering how she would get through the evening.

  And the night.

  Alex saw the flash of discomfort in Lady Jeanette’s face as their host suggested they spend the night at the governor’s residence. He did not want it any more than she. He did not need the infernal attraction that seemed to rage between them every time they were together. But she had created the problem by claiming her need to be with her husband.

  The quarters were luxurious and it would be an insult to refuse. He could not risk that, not when he was close to escaping. He only hoped that no British warship would appear in the bay in the meantime.

  He also hoped that the governor, true to his word, would release Claude and let him return to the ship, young Robin and the impetuous Burke with him.

  Regardless of his distaste at spending the night with the Campbell, he could not help glancing at her throughout the meal. She wore those bloody gloves again, and something inside him rebelled at the thought. She had been so careful to cover the birthmark when he’d first met her, and had continued to do so until it interfered with the care she’d given Meg. It was obviously hurtful to her in more ways than he had imagined.

  Except for the gloves, she looked enticingly attractive. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke fluent French to their hostess, and the rose in her cheeks from the Caribbean sun emphasized her amazing eyes. And when she happened to catch his glance, her long dark lashes veiled them in a gesture both shy and seductive. It was a potent combination.

  His loins hurt.

  He tried to focus on what the governor was saying, even as his gaze continued to return to his … wife.

  “Ah, the passion of the young,” the governor said to him in a low voice. “I can tell yours was a love match. I envy you. She is an appealing woman.”

  Not beautiful. Appealing. And the governor was right. She had little of classic beauty. Her mouth was too wide, her eyes too large, her face more heart-shaped than oval. But there was something about her, an earnestness that was intriguing for its rarity, an intelligence that challenged, a vulnerability that provoked all that was protective in a man. He had never thought of a woman as a partner before, but now as they sat at this table in common cause, he knew an odd sense of comfort and even lightness.

  A Campbell. Bloody hell.

  Their gazes met again. A flame leapt into her eyes as the contact lingered, and he knew it most probably was every bit as unwelcome as the ache tormenting him. She had no use for him. She knew him for what he was: a thief and pirate and even worse. And yet for a child’s sake, she was helping him at the risk of her own future. She must resent that unreasoning attraction as much as he.

  “Oui,” he finally said.

  “I can tell we will have little business tonight,” the governor said. “You are too … distracted.”

  Alex tried to concentrate. “I do have a proposition,” he said.

  The governor looked at the two women engaged in a lively conversation now. “Your wife offered me those lovely emeralds she is wearing.”

  Alex felt as if a piece of lumber had just crashed into his chest. “She is a generous woman,” he said, “but I hope to make you a better offer.”

  A broad smile spread across Louis Richárd’s face.

  “I’ll sell the contents of the Charlotte to Monsieur Sevier. He bought the last ship I brought here, and I think he would like these particular goods. You can keep the ship yourself to do with as you wish. If you think it best to return it to the English, then so be it. If you would rather make a profit yourself, I will not mention it to my backers. I will give them my share from the contents, instead.”

  He watched the governor mull over the proposal. The ship was worth far more than its contents. Greed warred with caution on his face. As well as the opportunity of exchanging the ship for England’s goodwill, he would not be taking the chance of offending Alex’s French backers.

  On his side, Alex could leave the island, and with at least a good part of his prize.

  The governor finally nodded.

  “I would like to see Sevier in the morning. I want to sail tomorrow night.”

  “I will send someone and tell him of our agreement. He can look over the manifests and ship tonight.”

  “Merci,” Alex said. “And may I compliment you on the wine. I believe there is some very good stock on the Charlotte, and I’ll exclude that from Monsieur Sevier’s purchase.”

  The governor nodded solemnly. “You are a gentleman, Captain Malfour. I hope there are no … misunderstandings between us.”

  The man was actually fawning where yesterday he had been arrogant and cold and even contemptuous.

  Was the change due to the Campbell lass?

  No doubt. He owed her.

  Owing a Campbell was his worst nightmare.

  Or would it be spending the night in the same chamber?

  Jenna wanted the evening to end. She wanted it to continue forever.

  As the governor conversed with the captain, she tried to keep the conversation going with the governor’s wife. She had never been in society. She had kept to her room, engaged herself mostly in books.

  Her governess had tried to instruct her in the conversational arts, but seeing that she was hidden from most of society, Jenna never thought it important, and neither had the governess. The conversational tidbits were mostly inane observations about the weather. A lady, the governess had said, never discussed politics or issues of the day. She would be considered a bluestocking. No man wanted a bluestocking.

  But then no man had wanted her in any event, bluestocking or not.

  She tried to dismiss that thought. She had been aware of it for too many years. She was unlovable. An unsuitable wife. She should be thanking her father profusely for arranging the long-distance match. That’s what everyone said.

  But now she found herself conversing perfectly well. Asking questions kept her from answering any awkward ones, and the governor’s wife seemed to enjoy the attention of a newly arrived visitor. She wondered if her growing skills had something to do with newfound confidence. She had reached the governor, had possibly changed his mind. She had helped Meg, and had gained the friendship of both her and the lad.

  Still, she had to hide the icy fingers of fear and apprehension raking up her back. Fear that the governor would change his mind about releasing the captain. Apprehension about spending time alone with him, the pretense of their marriage becoming too real for comfort, if only for one night.

  What had she done?

  The minutes crawled on.

  Finally, the governor rose. “I understand,” he said, “that my guest would enjoy spending some time with his wife. I would not be accused of keeping them apart.” He turned to the captain. “My men will escort your mate to the ship as well as the others who came ashore with madame.”

  Madame. The title seemed strange to her. As she stood, she steadied herself. She’d had several glas
ses of fine wine, a rare occurrence for someone who rarely drank anything other than watered wine. She’d told herself she did it to be polite, but it was also the stuff of courage, false as it might be.

  She thought she had been careful not to have too much. Now she wondered as her legs seemed uncooperative.

  She thanked her hostess effusively, then the governor, afraid that she was prattling.

  The captain wrapped an arm around her, putting her even more off balance. She did not know how he would react when they were alone. Oh, he had been mild enough when told of her deception, but Claude had been in the room and the governor’s soldiers outside.

  It did not help that the captain’s arm’s touch torched a path of heat that quickly radiated to every part of her body.

  It did not help at all.

  He turned suddenly, as if he too was burned. “I will have that cigar and brandy with you,” he said to the governor. “After taking my wife upstairs. I fear she has land sickness.”

  She remembered Hamish warning her about that, recalled the odd feeling of being at sea when really on land. “Aye,” she said softly. “I am feeling a bit …”

  The governor bowed. “I understand. I hope you have a good night, madame.”

  The captain guided her out then. She felt oddly compliant. Whether it was due to the wine, the warmth of his embrace, the heady success of her mission, or just plain exhaustion, she did not know.

  She ascended the stairs with him, this time with no guard escorting them. She could not doubt her success. And in achieving what she had set out to do, she had likely destroyed any chance she had for a marriage and home and children with David Murray. She had been impulsive. She had wanted an adventure, and she had let her heart rule her head.

  Melancholy gripped her. Another result of wine? Or the prospect of the next few hours or the next few days or the next few years?

  Too soon, they reached the room where she had been taken earlier. The captain opened the door, and both of them saw Claude sitting in a chair, a glass of wine in his hand.

  “You can go now,” the captain told him. “Find Burke and Robin and take them back. We sail tomorrow night. Just before we sail, you can row the passengers ashore, but I don’t want any of them on deck until we are ready to release them. They cannot know what happened tonight or that Lady … Jenna had any part of it.”

  “Aye,” Claude said. “And you? When will you return?” His gaze went to Jenna, who was still standing in the captain’s shadow, still held close by his arm.

  “In the morning. The governor wants us to accept his hospitality tonight, seeing that I have neglected my wife so badly.”

  Claude raised a bushy dark eyebrow.

  “I do not have a choice,” the captain said wearily. “Lady Jenna has convinced him she and I have friends in very high places in France, and that we are indeed husband and wife. We cannot decline his hospitality without raising questions.”

  “He will let us sail out?”

  “Aye. I offered him the Charlotte. We will sell its contents. That seemed to alleviate some of his fear of the English. But he could still change his mind. If for some reason we do not make it back, I want you to set sail. It’s a new moon. Done slyly, you should be able to escape the fort’s guns.”

  “Leave you?”

  “I want the children safe. And the crew.”

  “They will take their risks with you.”

  “Nay, they will not,” the captain said. “Now go, before our host changes his mind.”

  “Aye, sir.” He said it reluctantly.

  “Now!” the captain snapped.

  Claude disappeared out the door without another word.

  The captain lowered his arm from her waist and walked over to the window. She joined him and looked outside, following the path of his gaze.

  Claude emerged from the residence. He was met by Burke and Robin outside. The three walked down the walk, accompanied by one soldier.

  The captain turned to her. “I should go back and have that cigar with the governor.”

  She could only look up at him. She was feeling steadier now, but still had a flutter in her stomach.

  “Take the bed,” he said curtly. “I will sleep on the floor.”

  He could not wait to leave her. A chill displaced the warmth that had infused her at his touch. Perversely, she was wounded. She had worried about being alone with him, but it was not because he repelled her. Just the opposite—he aroused any number of wayward feelings in her.

  His rejection was devastating. He could not stand being in her presence. The brief satisfaction at accomplishing something faded. She was no more to him than she had been the day he had taken her ship.

  She was a fool to even entertain such thoughts, yet they had crept up upon her and would not leave.

  She turned away from him, holding herself rigid, trying to keep tears from gathering in her eyes. She remained that way until she heard the door open and close.

  A knock at the door sent a jolt of expectation through her, but when she opened it, a maid stood there, her hands full.

  “My mistress sent this for you,” she said, spreading out a nightdress and robe across the bed. The nightdress was a fine lawn, its neck embarrassingly low, and there were no sleeves.

  “Merci,” she said as the woman backed out the door.

  Jenna slowly took off her gloves, glaring at the birthmark on her hand and arm, then stepped out of the hooped petticoat, watching as the green dress dropped to the floor.

  She shed her clothes down to the chemise, then hesitated. Should she wear that, or the nightdress?

  Then she realized it did not matter. The captain obviously had no interest in her. But the nightdress was lighter and would be more comfortable. She stood and looked in the mirror as she took the pins from her hair, letting it fall around her face. She should braid it, but …

  Instead, she crawled into the large bed that dominated the room.

  She pulled the coverlet over her and sank in the feather mattress.

  And she had never felt so alone in her life, not even when she’d stepped foot on the Ami. She’d then had her anger and indignation as armor. She’d built a wall around her heart.

  When had it been breeched?

  She was appalled when a tear wandered down her cheek and dampened the pillow.

  Alex had been stung by the effect of touching the Campbell lass. Even more stung by the vulnerability in her eyes. He had seen so many emotions in them this evening: trepidation, fear, pride. They had all touched him in ways he thought impossible.

  Most painful of all was the desire that stirred in his loins. He wanted her. He could not deny that any longer.

  He had tried to convince himself that his attraction toward her was nothing more than his lack of female companionship in nearly two years, that it was only the natural need of a man for any woman.

  But as he’d watched her during supper, he knew it went much deeper than that. He had been stunned by the very audacity of her actions. That she was intrepid enough not only to do what she had done, but to plan it, was unbelievable. That she had been able to fool a Frenchman and his wife that they were wed was astonishing. That she had bluffed the governor into believing he—Alex—had far more important backers than he ever dreamed of was even more incredible.

  That she would do it at all was beyond his comprehension.

  He had also been uncomfortably aware of a stab of jealousy at the leering way the governor had looked at her.

  To his surprise, he’d taken umbrage at such overt lust.

  He surprised himself even more by risking everything by changing his mind and accepting the governor’s invitation for brandy. It was the last thing he’d wanted to do.

  Next to the last thing, he corrected himself.

  The last thing was being alone in a bedchamber with her.

  One brandy led to another.

  “Your lady was very positive she wanted to be with you,” the governor said after the second
one.

  “She is feeling unwell,” Alex said. “She said it must be the bairn. There is a change of moods, I am told, when a woman is with child.”

  “Oui” the governor said gloomily. “I fear it is true.”

  “I will purchase something lovely for her tomorrow.”

  “She is a very interesting woman,” the governor said.

  Alex could not agree more. “Oui,” he said.

  “You did not strike me as the marrying kind,” the governor said.

  “There is always a woman who can make you change your mind,” Alex said. He had never quite believed it. A few of his friends had married well, but he had never seen a woman with whom he wanted to spend a lifetime.

  But those friends were dead now, their wives either dead or fled to places safer than today’s Scotland.

  He had given up any idea of a future. He was a poor prospect indeed.

  The governor stood. “I will not keep you from her any longer,” he said. “My wife has sent up a nightdress and night robe.”

  “My thanks for your hospitality.”

  “I … apologize for the brief misunderstanding,” the governor said. “But we are in a very precarious place here on the island. We are so close to the English and we do not have the French troops we need. We have only the fort, and if they attack from the other side …”

  “I understand, your excellency. I want nothing to interfere with our mutual interests.”

  The governor fairly glowed with good wishes. “I too have that desire.”

  He started for the door, then turned around and leered again. “And say a pleasant good night to your wife on my behalf. As I said, I envy you.”

  If only the governor knew that the Campbell lass was here only because of two children, not for him. She had no doubt braced herself for his return to the room. She must have felt the attraction between them, but she was fighting it as bitterly as he.

  The world was between them. Not just a name.

  He suspected the floor was going to be only a small part of his discomfort.