Cutter slowly turned around, careful to avoid looking at Hann’s chest. His normally tanned skin had grown ashen—even his scars paled from their normal purple hue. But once he saw the girl had been modestly covered, he got to work, finished cleaning her, and then bandaged the wound. Plopping down onto a stool, he crossed his bloodied, scarred arms over his chest and gave Isabel a look of reproach. “How long have you known?”
“A few days.” She brushed the hair from Hann’s forehead and clutched the table, feeling suddenly weak. “She will recover?”
“Aye, with proper care.” Cutter gazed at Hann, then shook his head and chuckled. “I thought I’d gone mad or perhaps had been too long at sea.”
“You care for her, then?”
Cutter stood and grabbed Hann’s hand, pressing it between his. “That I do.”
Isabel smiled.
Grumbling voices and the pounding of boots echoed through the dark berth as some of the pirates wandered below. Kent approached the table. Concern burned in his gaze.
Cutter released Hann’s hand.
“How is he?” Kent’s glance wandered from Isabel to Cutter. His eyes narrowed when he saw the blood covering the floor and the blotches of red splattered over their clothing.
Cutter cleared his throat and gave a knowing glance toward Isabel. “He will live, Captain.”
Kent regarded them curiously.
Isabel took a step toward him and patted the combs in her hair. “What of the Spanish fleet?”
“We have outrun them.” He grinned. “Thanks to you.”
“Thank God, not me.” Isabel blinked away the sparks of light that flashed in her vision.
“Lady Ashton has been very brave.” Cutter grabbed a towel and wiped his hands. “I never thought a lady would fare so well in the midst of so much blood.”
Kent eyed her with regard. “Yes, she’s quite exceptional.”
Isabel warmed under his perusal, yet the room began to spin. She raised a hand to her head.
“Steady now.” Grabbing her arm, Kent drew her near, spilling his scent of wood and leather over her. “’Tis been a trying day. Allow me to escort you to your cabin, milady.”
Without protest, Isabel took Kent’s arm, fearing she would topple to the floor without his support. She cast one last glance at Hann and then at Cutter and knew her friend was in good hands.
“You never cease to amaze me,” Kent said as they ascended the ladder.
“How so, Captain?” Isabel was anxious to hear his answer, but quickly chided herself for asking. Why should she be concerned with the opinion of a pirate?
“Your bravery, your faith in God, and now your overwhelming concern for a pirate boy.”
They stopped before her door, and Kent opened it, allowing her to step inside. “Would that you cared as much for me.”
The brazen words were uttered so softly, she wondered if he’d meant to say them aloud. Had she encouraged him by clinging to him up on the deck when she’d thought their lives were over? She still could give no reason for doing so. Even now, though she knew she should be indignant at his bold admission, in truth, it touched her heart. She gazed into his dark, expectant eyes and tried to remind herself that this was the man who’d ravished her.
“You are ill-advised if you believe flattery is the way to my heart.” Isabel thrust out her chin.
“Then pray tell, show me the way.”
“I fear, Captain, that for you, that route is impassable.”
“Alas, that you fear it, gives me some hope.”
Frustration pricked at her nerves. Did this man never quit?
“I’ll have some hot water delivered, so you can refresh yourself.” He gave her a sad smile before closing the door.
Kent strode onto the deck, taking a deep breath of salty air. Tossing his hair behind him, he leapt onto the quarterdeck and planted his boots firmly on the wood. High above, the sun hurled its searing rays upon him, but he didn’t need further warming, not after Isabel’s gentle grip on his arm and the soft feel of her beside him. Though her sharp tongue denied it, he sensed a softening within her—in the look in her eyes, in her touch. Perhaps she was beginning to forgive him. Dare he hope for more than that?
Kent grunted. Who was he fooling? She still longed for the wealth and title that he could never give her. Furthermore, how could he ever expect her to forgive him for what he’d done?
Kent scanned the ship. Sawkins, Smithy, Wolcott, and Murdock squatted on barrels up on the foredeck. They surrounded a small table where they played a hand of Truc. What would his father think of his favored son now—a penniless milksop, tossing what little he had left to the fickle winds of a card game? Remembering Sawkins’s cowardice earlier that day and his defiance of Isabel’s God stirred fury within Kent. How he longed to rid himself of his brother’s company. He hated the way he looked at Isabel. Was she still taken in by his charm? Did she still think giving their son his name would be the best thing for the boy? Closing his eyes against a blast of hot wind, Kent gritted his teeth.
Isabel. Her close proximity became an unbearable torture. For the more acquainted he became with her, the more he found to love. She was so much more than the comely face and curvaceous figure that had attracted him when he’d first seen her. Why hadn’t he seen past her outward beauty a year ago? Had he been that shallow?
Opening his eyes, Kent surveyed his ship, her trim, firm lines, the sturdy oak of her deck, the taut shrouds and ratlines strung upward in a tight web, her thick masts and yards boasting mountainous peaks of white canvas. Off her bow the turquoise sea billowed, sprinkled with caps of white that stretched to the blue horizon. Perhaps the Restitution would remain his one and only true love.
The pounding of a hammer broke through the normal creaks and moans of the ship, and Kent looked down to see his crew repairing the shattered bulwark—his crew, his men. This was his fortress, his castle, and he was in command. He’d achieved the power and success he’d fought for his whole life. The only dream he still had left to achieve was to become the new admiral of the Brethren of the Coast. That would entail, however, getting rid of Captain Morgan, and that was no small feat. But in the meantime, Kent was indeed a formidable pirate. Not only that, but he possessed a hold full of treasure fit for a king. Had he done it to impress a dead father or was Kent proving to himself that his father had been wrong when he’d called Kent a disappointment, a frail halfwit? What did it matter? He’d proven himself either way. Yet why did he feel so empty? None of his accomplishments brought him the satisfaction he craved.
And what of Isabel’s God? How could he deny that He existed after what Kent had seen today? She had to merely bow her head and appeal to Him, and He came to her aid. Raising his gaze, Kent peered past the bursting white of the sails into the vast sky. Did this God ever take notice of him? And if He did, did He turn his face quickly away or did He see anything of measure? Perhaps it was too late to hope for that.
Isabel sat on the window ledge in her cabin, gazing out over the brilliant ribbons of crimson, peach, and violet adorning the sky as the sun sank past the line of dark blue sea. With each passing day, they drew closer to Frederick, and her heart soared.
As promised, the captain had sent a tub of hot water, and after discarding her bloodstained gown, she’d washed and donned a fresh one. Afterward, Isabel had tried to lie down and rest. Yet despite the miracle of the morning, a heavy despondency shrouded her. Grabbing her Bible, she’d flown to the window and opened it to find Proverbs 11:21.
Though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not be unpunished: but the seed of the righteous shall be delivered.
Her spirit had leapt within her as the quiet voice of God reassured her that Frederick would be saved.
The Reverend had told her how important it was to read God’s word every day—for comfort, guidance, and strength, and also because it was a way to get to know the Lord and to become more like Him. And oh, how she needed that. But more often than not, especially on this pirate ship, she desp
aired of finding a quiet moment alone to spend with her Father. Bowing her head in prayer, she vowed to make time with God a part of her daily routine.
She raised her hand to the window, her skin still raw from the harsh scrubbing it had taken to remove the blood. Yet Hann was alive! With a smile, Isabel closed her eyes as a warm breeze drifted over her, the tangy scent of rain floating upon it. God had not only delivered them from the Spanish fleet, but had saved Hann as well.
When her thoughts drifted to the captain, Isabel opened her eyes and scratched a rising itch on her arms, wondering at the new, intense feelings that battled within her. Even when surrounded by a fleet of Spanish warships, he’d displayed naught but courage and sagacity. She could still feel the strength of the muscles in his arms as he’d escorted her to her cabin.
A rap at the door sent Isabel jumping from her seat. Thinking it must be Kent, she rushed and flung the heavy oak aside to see Sawkins handsome features and slick smile. Disappointment tugged at her heart.
“May I come in?”
Hesitating, Isabel stepped aside, allowing him entrance. Throwing his hat onto the table, he lit a lantern and led her to a chair before shutting the door.
Shifting uncomfortably, Isabel cast a glance at the oak barrier blocking her exit. A sudden unease welled within her. Surely, she’d be safe alone with Lord Sawkins?
His blond hair hung unfettered to his shoulders. The clean strong lines of his jaw flexed as he smiled at her. “After the day’s harrowing events, I wanted to make sure you were safe and well, milady.”
“Yes, thank you. I’m quite all right.” Isabel nearly laughed, remembering how terrified Sawkins had been earlier that day. Perhaps she should ask him the same thing.
Fishing in his pocket, he pulled out a small velvet sack. “I have a gift for you.” He held it out to her.
“A gift?” Isabel took it and gave it a shake. She had not received a gift in years, especially from a gentleman. Excitement swept away her fears and embarrassment, and she untied the gold ribbon and peeked inside. A flash of white caught her eye as she poured the contents into her hand. A beautiful pearl necklace glimmered like beads of cream in her palm.
“Oh, Lord Sawkins, ’tis beautiful.” Clutching it, she held it up before her eyes, delighting in the way the pearls shimmered in the lantern light. She ran her fingers over the beads and felt the weight of them in her hand. “But I cannot accept this.” Even as she said it, she longed to keep them. She’d not had such an exquisite piece of jewelry since she’d lived in Hertfordshire, and it brought back fond memories of her prior life of wealth and privilege.
She glanced up at Lord Sawkins, who was beaming at her response.
“Thank you for your generosity, milord—”
“Richard, if you please,” he interrupted and clasped her hand between his.
“Richard.” Isabel’s skin crawled. She glanced toward the door. “But ’twould be most improper for me to accept this.”
Moving a chair close to hers—too close—Sawkins perched on the edge and leaned toward her. “Not if we are engaged.”
“Indeed. But we are not.”
“I realize this may not be the best time, milady, but I’m sick with love for you. I cannot eat, I cannot sleep, for thinking of you. All you need say is yes, Isabel. Then you can have not only these pearls, but my title, my wealth, my undying devotion, and more jewels than you can ever imagine.”
His honey-drenched words flowed around her like tantalizing sweets. She glanced toward the window, seeing only the darkness left by the retreating sun. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and a blast of chilled air swirled through the cabin. Unease seethed in her stomach. Was he trying to bribe her or was he sincere in his affections? Perhaps both.
Isabel patted the combs in her hair.
Sawkins’s blue eyes glared expectantly into hers. “I thought these pearls would match the ones in those exquisite combs you wear.”
Isabel eyed him, amazed at his thoughtfulness. The combs had been a gift from her fiancé, William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, the last remnant of their promised union. She had clung to them over the years—worn them every day. They represented hope for the future she craved. Now, she had another promise, another symbol of a devotion that would surely bring her and Frederick happiness and security. Easing the necklace back and forth in her hands, she listened to the clicking of the pearls as they rubbed against one another—like beads of hope giggling at her.
Sawkins’s lips curled in a confident grin. “Please say you’ll become my wife, milady, and keep them as a token of my sincere intentions.” He straightened the lace bursting from his blue doublet.
With a sigh, Isabel regarded him, his strong, stately features, the shimmer of lantern light in his golden hair, the elegance of his doublet and breeches, trimmed in metallic braid, the gold-hilted rapier hanging at his side. She searched for any stirring of emotion or flutter of desire within her, but instead found only a queasiness churning in her stomach. What did it matter? Here was a man of wealth and title offering her everything she had ever wanted. And hadn’t her mother told her many a time that love had nothing to do with marriage?
Oh Lord, what shall I do?
Her thoughts drifted to Frederick. Regardless of her feelings, she must consider his future her top priority.
Sawkins dropped to his knees and grabbed her hands. “Oh, Isabel, pray do not keep me in this agony any longer. Your silence will be the death of me. I must have your answer now.”
Sawkins gazed into Isabel’s green eyes as they shifted between his. She still had the pearls clasped within her hands. He’d known she would love them. And with luck, neither the captain nor the crew would miss them from the chest in the hold. It was only pirate booty absconded from the slave ship anyway. And from Sawkins’s brief perusal of the treasure stored below, his brother had acquired more than enough to last a lifetime. Greed bubbled within him. Soon it would all be Sawkins’s anyway.
He squeezed her hands and put on his most handsome smile. How many other times had he used these very tactics to win the heart of the woman he pursued: a gift of jewels, lavish compliments, his most amorous glance, and a promise of commitment? The women had melted in his lap, and he’d enjoyed every ounce of the pleasures they offered him. Of course, he’d had to be much more shrewd with Lady Ashton. Isabel was an intelligent woman and not so easily swayed, but as he gazed into her eyes and sensed her softening, he knew she would be well worth the trouble—especially since his brother also desired her. How Sawkins loved to prove himself the better man, not the illegitimate accident resulting from his mother’s wanton behavior.
Isabel’s gaze dropped as if she was pondering the best way to accept his offer, and Sawkins allowed his eyes to rove over her. What a delicious morsel. The red streaks glinting in her hair hinted at fiery passions beneath her frosty exterior. Her silken skin, the curves bounding beneath her gown, her delicate hands, and those exquisite green eyes enclosed by a forest of thick, dark lashes, all combined to create a tasty treat. He licked his lips in anticipation of having her as his own. He must have her. She looked up at him, and he flashed his gaze to her pink lips, anxiously awaiting her assent so he could possess them.
“I cannot in good conscience give you my answer yet, milord. We hardly know one another. Consider this my informal acceptance of your offer.” She smiled, but her voice carried neither the excitement nor the joy he’d expected from a woman accepting the privilege of becoming his wife. After all, he was doing her a favor. No other gentleman would consider marrying her.
Lifting her hands to his lips, he placed a kiss upon them. “So we are promised?” He had to ensure he’d heard her correctly.
“If, I mean, when we rescue my son.” Isabel withdrew her hands from his. “And survive this ordeal, yes, I will marry you.”
“I am overcome, milady. I’m quite ecstatic.” The exuberant joy welling within him surprised even Sawkins. No other woman had affected him so ardently. Yet as he watched Is
abel, he wondered why she did not seem to share his excitement.
“Until then, milord.” Isabel held up the string of pearls. “I’ll return these to you.”
“I insist you keep them, milady.” He took the opportunity to embrace her hands again. “As a token of my affection and our promise to one another.”
A flicker of hesitation passed across her eyes before she nodded.
Her sweet scent swirled around him. Surely she would not deny him a kiss now that they were betrothed. Moistening his lips, he inched toward her. From the corner of his eye, he saw her flinch, but he could not stop himself. He must have a taste. She let out a gasp and tried to twist herself from the chair, managing to free one of her hands. “You take far too many liberties, milord.”
Sawkins continued toward her. “Forgive me, Isabel. I’m simply mad with love, and I cannot contain them another minute.”
Isabel forced a hand against his chest. “I beg you to try harder, milord.”
Just one kiss. It was so little to ask of her.
A loud slap cracked his left cheek, followed by a stinging burn. Sawkins jumped to his feet, holding his hand over the inflamed area, too shocked to utter a word.
With heaving chest, Isabel sprang from the chair, darted to the door, and flung it open. She turned to glare at him. “If you think to take liberties with me simply because I have consented to marry you, you may think again, milord. Though I have a son, I’ll thank you to remember that he was conceived against my will. I am not a common strumpet whose affections you may purchase with a string of pearls.” She pushed the necklace at him. “You may take your leave.”
Sawkins squared his shoulders. How dare this pompous woman reject his advances—and strike him as well! He’d never let a woman hit him without suffering the consequences, and he wasn’t about to start with this one, no matter how special she was. But he must wait for the proper time. Swallowing his pride, he feigned his most apologetic smile and bowed.
“I hope you’ll accept my sincere apologies, Isabel. I only hoped for a simple kiss. But alas, I see you are a woman of great principle.” He sauntered to the door and stopped beside her, pleased when he noticed a tremble pass over her. Cupping his hand over the pearls, he enclosed them in her hand. “I beg you to keep them—a symbol, I still trust, of our engagement?”
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