The Captain's Caress

by Leigh Greenwood

  “No, my dear, you will not be allowed to dictate the terms of our relationship. Until now, I have accepted your restrictions and have put up with your perpetual illnesses. I don’t know where I found the patience to endure this deception for so long, but the time has come to bring it to an end.”

  “What do you expect me to do? Meekly say of course, your lordship?”

  “That course of action would be quite suitable, though I doubt you will be sensible enough to take it.”

  “You can be certain I won’t. Not now, not ever.”

  “That’s certainly direct, but we can discuss it at another time. I expect you will eventually find we have more to agree on than otherwise.”

  “But the exceptions will be too important to be ignored.”

  “As to that, we shall have to wait and see. But there is a more immediate issue I wish to settle.” Tension gripped Summer as Gowan fixed her with one of his hypnotic stares.

  “I think the time has come for us to begin to live as man and wife.”

  “No! You promised.” The discordant protest was torn from Summer. Struck by fear and revulsion, she struggled to stand on unsteady legs that gave credence to her claim that she was unwell.

  Piqued by her impassioned outburst, Gowan said “I never made you that or any other promise. You cannot suppose that I would agree to something so prejudicial to my own interest.”

  “But you don’t like me,” Summer objected. “You never have liked me.”

  “It is true that I have not yet developed an affection for you, but whose fault is it that I have seen more of your maid than of you? At times I almost forget I have a wife.”

  “You have been gone two weeks out of every three.”

  “I was under the impression that you were happier when I wasn’t at home.” His eaglelike stare never wavered, and Summer felt herself becoming more and more defensive. “But that is unimportant. I intend to be in residence much more often, and we will have plenty of opportunity to become better acquainted.”

  “I look forward to becoming more conversant with your habits and pleasures,” Summer replied. “I do not deny that I am not yet comfortable with you—”

  Gowan interrupted her. “Nor have you tried to be. You have used every possible excuse to avoid me.” The scar slowly curved in upon itself as his anger grew, a living reflection of his inner turmoil. “I neither know nor care to learn the real reason. The time for locking your door is at an end. I intend to have free access to your apartments, and I expect your maid to retire to her proper quarters when she has finished preparing you for bed.”

  “You can’t do this.” Summer was terrified. He was inexorably closing in on her. “You can’t command me like a concubine.”

  “But I can. Even your beloved Mrs. Slampton-Sands would find nothing improper in what I ask.”

  “I won’t! I can’t! Don’t make me!” she entreated.

  “There’s no need for actions that may prove prejudicial to our future relationship.” Gowan rose from the chair, extending a hand in Summer’s direction. “Come to me willingly and I will do all I can not to hurt you.” Summer could see the evidence of Gowan’s passion as he stood before her, and she realized he meant to have her this night.

  “Don’t come near me, you detestable creature,” Summer wailed as she fled behind the day bed. All patience and all pretense of sympathy deserted Gowan, and in their place was implacable fury.

  “But I will, my dear,” he said savagely. “I will take you until you scream for mercy—and I shall not be gentle. At times I like to be very rough.”

  “I’ll die first.”

  “I can’t allow you to do anything so wasteful, for I foresee even more pleasure in your arms than I had anticipated.” His malicious smile sent spasms of terror through Summer. “I’m going to make up for my inattention these past months by acquainting myself with every part of you, intimately.” His voice dropped to a harsh whisper on the last word.

  Summer flung at him, desperate, “I won’t make love to anyone who cheats his ward and murders old men.”

  Gowan paused in his pursuit. “It seems the good captain did more than keep you locked away. When did he whisper this slander in your ears, in the dark of the cabin or the solitude of the bedchamber?”

  “Curb your vulgar imagination,” Summer snapped, such contempt in her voice that Gowan felt he had been struck across the face. “His first mate told me. The captain usually refused to discuss you.”

  “A coward is reluctant to face his enemy.”

  “Coward?” she exclaimed, driven to make an unwise retort. “You robbed and cheated a helpless boy, yet you dare to call Brent a coward? As a boy he faced you in your own lair, knowing that you were a liar, a thief, and an unscrupulous villain.”

  “Take care before you go too far,” Gowan snarled, now nearly speechless with rage. “You are now in my lair and at my mercy.”

  “But I know you for the unprincipled scoundrel you are.”

  “That may be, but you are just as defenseless.”

  “If a young boy could beat you senseless, you can’t be much of a man.”

  With a fierce roar, Gowan grabbed for Summer, but she escaped to the far side of the bed. “You’re a bully and a tyrant,” she taunted. “You enjoy inflicting pain, breaking people with your cruelty.”

  “Do you always believe pirates and outlaws rather than the lawful, loyal servants of the King?” Gowan inquired, glaring at Summer with steely eyes.

  “I believe what I see.”

  “You didn’t see me steal or murder—”

  “I saw you murder Brent!” she shouted in his face. “I saw you shoot him in the back like the base coward you are.” Gowan rushed around the bed after her, but she scrambled across it, throwing the curtains that ringed the bed in his face. Fury distorted his features, eradicating his urbane façade.

  “You will pay for each and every word you have uttered, you stupid, ignorant bitch!” he bellowed. “I will tear the flesh from your bones. I’ll scar the face that is a source of pride to you.”

  “No torture you can inflict will cleanse your soul of its corruption,” she flung at him. “And nothing can erase the perpetual reminder of your treachery from your face. You’re branded by your own deeds, Gowan, just as common criminals are branded for theirs.”

  With a speed Summer didn’t expect in a man of his age, Gowan threw himself across the bed. She managed to evade his outstretched hands, but in her frantic attempt to escape a rug slid out from under her and she went skittering across the floor. She quickly regained her feet, but the few seconds she’d lost gave Gowan the extra time he needed. He caught hold of the hem of her dressing gown, ripped away a layer of lace as she tried to get the day bed between them. Before Summer could slip out of the robe, his fingers closed around her arms, and with a powerful jerk, he brought her around to face him. Summer dealt him such a resounding slap his head reeled.

  “I have killed men for less than that,” he blared. “I can break your neck just as easily.”

  “Do it if you dare. Death would be a blessing if it would spare me the misfortune of being your wife.”

  “You’re going to be my wife in the truest sense of the word,” he said, attempting to unfasten her gown.

  “Never!” she shouted and twisted out of his grip. “You’ll have to kill me before I’ll submit.”

  But Gowan moved faster than she did. He grabbed the back of her gown and pulled with all his might. The heavy material ripped down the back and tore lose from his grasp. But the force of his attack caused Summer to lose her balance and fall heavily to the floor, and with a shout of triumph Gowan roughly tore the rest of the ruined gown from her body, leaving Summer nude before his gaze.

  “I have you now, by God, and I shall take you right here on the floor. I’m going to skewer you like a trussed lamb, harrow and seed you until you’ve been planted with my heir.”

  “You’re too late,” Summer said, her lips curling insolently. “I�
�ve already been harrowed and seeded, and I bear the fruit of that cultivation.” She patted her clearly bulging stomach, and a grim smile of satisfaction spread across the face. “I bear the child of Brent Douglas.”

  Gowan’s horrified gaze remained fixed on Summer’s stomach. “You whore!” he roared. “Did you service the whole ship?”

  “I might have known you’d jump to that conclusion,” Summer said disdainfully as she tried to cover her nakedness.

  “Don’t preach morality to me, harlot. Not after you played the whore for Brent Douglas.” He threw the shredded gown to the floor and roughly brought Summer to her feet.

  “He forced himself upon me to get revenge on you,” she wailed. “This whole horrible nightmare is your fault.”

  “It’s a judgment on you, hussy.”

  “A judgment on me?” Summer cried, struggling to break free. “It’s a blessing because it prevents me from having to bear a child of yours.”

  “You prefer to whelp the bastard of a common felon rather than bear an heir for your rightful husband?”

  “I’d bear the child of the devil himself first. At least he doesn’t clothe his villainy in pious posturing.”

  “You can be assured you will receive no more politeness from me.” Gowan flung her from him. “I feel contaminated from having touched you.”

  “May you die of the infection.” Summer sneered as she tried to cover herself with her robe. But Gowan tore it from her and flung it away.

  “You can’t hide your shame, hussy. I’m going to drag you from one end of the castle to the other so that everyone will know you for the gutter-crawling bitch that you are.”

  “You’re insane!” Summer exclaimed, staring at him with widening eyes. “Didn’t you hear what I said? I was seduced, forced to suffer this humiliation because of you.”

  “But first I’m going to rid you of that child. I swore to wipe the Douglas family from the face of this earth, and I won’t have his spawn in my home.”

  “Stay away from me!” Summer warned, disliking the look in Gowan’s eyes as he came toward her. He seemed to have lost his reason, and she was certain he was capable of committing any atrocity.

  “I’m going to tear that pirate’s spawn from your body,” he said, balling up his fists. “I’m going to beat you until you spill it on the floor.” Summer let out a piercing, bloodcurdling scream as he lunged for her. Freed of her clothing and spurred on by bone-chilling terror, she sped beyond his reach. Then the two of them fenced, Gowan lunging after her, Summer springing beyond his reach, until she reached the table next to her bed. In a flash she opened the drawer and whipped out a loaded pistol. She cocked it and aimed it straight at Gowan’s head.

  “I’ve kept this for just such an emergency,” she said, drawing a shuddering breath. “Don’t think I won’t use it. The only thing my supposed father did for me was to make sure I knew how to shoot.” Gowan’s eyes did not waver and Summer doubted he could be reached by any rational argument, maybe not even by fear. “Back away from me,” she said. “I won’t hesitate to put a ball in you.” Gowan did step back. “Still more,” she ordered, and he retreated three more steps. “I want you to turn around and leave this apartment right now.”

  “You know you’ll never be safe from me,” he declared in an ominously quiet voice. “You know I will not rest—”

  “Milady, are you all right?” Lucy burst into the room before Gowan could finish his sentence. Summer’s attention was distracted for only an instant, but it was enough. With a crazed roar Gowan was up on her; the pistol fell to the floor with a clatter and harmlessly discharged its ball into the wall.

  “Help! The earl is trying to kill the mistress!” Lucy screeched. Then, without a thought for her own safety, she pitched herself onto Gowan’s back. The weight and force of her landing staggered him, and she wrapped her hands around his throat, cutting off his air so that he was forced to give up on punishing Summer in order to free himself of the virago on his back. All the while Lucy continued to scream for help and to encourage Summer to “scratch his bloody eyes out” and “land one where it will do the most good.”

  With a bellow of virulent curses, Gowan finally threw the hapless maid from him. She landed on the antique chair and it broke into a mass of splinters. Gowan grabbed the stillnaked Summer and began to drag her from the corner. But the pistol shot and Lucy’s screams had roused the household, and Bridgit, closely followed by the butler, Gowan’s valet, and a footman, burst into the apartment.

  “Merciful God!” Bridgit cried, starting forward. “He’s gone mad. Stop him before he kills her.” Wigmore, the butler, and the footman were too stunned by finding the countess completely nude to do more than stare. “Move, you fools, before it’s too late!” Bridgit screamed as she picked up Summer’s robe from the floor and rushed to cover her mistress, receiving some of the blows meant for Summer in the process. “Stop him before he causes her to lose the baby.”

  Wigmore suddenly recovered his wits, and launched himself at Gowan. The earl threw him off, but the valet and footman, spurred on by Wigmore’s example, pinioned their master to the wall so that Bridgit was able to drag Summer from his grasp.

  “Devil plague the man! Look at what he’s done to the poor dear, and her carrying his heir. Take him to his room,” Bridgit commanded. “Chain him to the bed if you have to, but make sure he can’t come near the countess again.”

  Gowan stared at Summer with a look of naked fury, but he allowed himself to be led from the room.

  “Send Betty and Annie to me,” Bridgit called after the men. “I need to help with the countess and someone has got to tend to poor Lucy.” The kind woman then turned her full attention to making Summer lie down and to covering her with warm blankets.

  “What could have made him act like such a madman?” Wigmore was completely baffled. “And he’d just learned he was to have an heir?”

  “Don’t you repeat a word of it, but that’s your precious Captain Douglas’s baby milady is carrying. And unless I miss my guess, learning that caused the earl to go crazy and try to kill her ladyship.”

  “But that can’t be.” Wigmore’s wits were not capable of coping with any more shocks that night.

  “I know for certain that the mistress has never let his lordship near her, not from the first minute. It’s my belief she fell in love with Douglas and that he planted his child in her, by force or I’m a nanny goat. The countess is not the kind of lady to let a man who’s not her husband couple with her, no matter how much she might love him.”

  “Then her life’s not worth a groat.” Wigmore had grown up on the Douglas estate and he knew of the long-simmering hatred Gowan nursed for his former employers. “If she’s carrying Master Brent’s child, he’ll kill her and the child.”

  “No man is insane enough to do something like that, not here in Scotland, not with King George on the throne.”

  “Gowan’s capable of anything. He’s already committed one murder in trying to destroy Master Brent. Bend your mind to thinking what to do after it is born, for I tell you the earl will never allow it to be brought up as his heir, not if he has to hang from the gallows for it.”

  Chapter 39

  Summer sat staring at the dreary winter landscape. The snow-covered courtyard was as bleak as her thoughts, and she turned away from the window. This was the first time she had left her room since the earl’s attack nearly two weeks ago. She had come down to her parlor in the afternoon, content to do some needlework on a lace cap.

  “Thank goodness I’m not very big yet,” she said to Bridgit, “or I’d be too large to move by spring.”

  “A fat mother means a healthy baby,” Bridgit recited from her store of country sayings. “You can’t expect to have a big baby when you’re as skinny as a scarecrow.”

  “Skinny!” exclaimed Summer. “I’m as big as a milch cow now. I hope it’s not twins.”

  “You’re never having twins,” Bridgit pronounced confidently. “There’s hardly en
ough of for one.”

  Summer looked up from her work, a little startled to see Gowan enter her parlor. “I would like to speak to my wife in private, Bridgit,” he said, holding the door open.

  “I dare not leave the mistress,” the older woman objected, preparing to keep her seat despite all persuasion. “She still has no business being out of her bed.”

  “I will call you if she shows signs of becoming faint,” Gowan said coldly. “I’m sure you and Wigmore will be just outside the door.” Summer studied Gowan carefully and was uneasy about what he meant say, but she was certain he didn’t intend to harm her.

  “It’s all right, Bridgit. I’m sure the earl won’t stay too long.”

  Bridgit opened her mouth to argue, but closed it again at a sign from Summer. She, too, had dismissed the threat of physical harm, but she knew the earl was never more deadly than when he was cornered. She gathered up her belongings. “Don’t keep her long. She never was strong, and that baby is taking more of her strength every day.”

  “Then let us hope that she will soon be delivered of it.”

  Bridgit sullenly passed through the door, and Gowan advanced toward the middle of the room. “I will not take much of your time. I just wanted to tell you what I intend to. do about this bastard of yours.”

  Summer wanted to heap curses on his head, but she remained silent. Vilifying him could only make matters worse.

  “Because of your swollen belly, everyone in the county knows you are with child, and thanks to Bridgit’s tongue they believe it to be my heir. Is there anyone who knows the falsity of that supposition?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve told no one, not even Bridgit, who the father is.”

  “That seems to be the only sensible thing you’ve done,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’m sure you realize it is impossible, quite out of the question really, that I should allow the offspring of Brent Douglas to be reared as my own. That his child should be my heir is an eventuality too monstrous to even contemplate.”