The Pirate's Desire

by Jennette Green

  And the guilt she’d felt over attacking him—perhaps unjustly—did not help matters, either. But the truth remained; he was hiding something from the Royal Navy. She didn’t know what it was, but it couldn’t be good.

  Did he plunder enemy ships? Did he plan to plunder Ravensbrook? Much as part of her did not want to believe these things, logically, she just did not know the truth. And that meant she must move forward with her final plan, no matter how disturbed and uncomfortable it made her feel.

  Lucinda ate a long, lingering breakfast in her room, and then reluctantly exited to face the day. To face Riel. For she still had a job to do, much as the discomfort of it tempted her to give up. But she would not. She had a plan now. At the perfect time, she must put it into motion.

  Drawing a fortifying breath, she carefully considered from every angle the awful plan she’d formed. Without a doubt, it would antagonize Riel so utterly that he’d abandon Ravensbrook at daybreak tomorrow, and never return. Just the thought of putting it into action made her feel slightly sick. As well, her despicable behavior would not only emotionally distress her, but might end up physically harming her, as well. Would it be worth it?

  Yes, she told herself. Better a little pain now, than years of it later.

  After spending a few enjoyable minutes chatting with Sophie, whom she found sitting in a comfortable chair on the terrace with a book, Lucinda stiffened her spine and approached her father’s study.

  Tomorrow morning Riel would sign the guardianship papers. So today her behavior must eclipse yesterday’s worst by tenfold, if she wanted her plan to succeed. She’d start slow, however, and build momentum until the final act this evening.

  She could do it. Much as it would certainly sicken her at various points.

  Riel sat at her father’s desk, his broad shoulders leaning forward as he studied the ledgers.

  “I am here for my lesson,” she announced.

  He looked up. Tension tightened his features, and unfriendliness flattened his black eyes. Good. She tried to ignore the prick of unhappiness that his clear dislike caused. He was still upset about last night. Now only to build upon that foundation, and learn how to decipher the ledgers at the same time.

  Girding up her courage, she lifted her chin higher than usual and entered the room. “You do plan to keep your word and teach me the books, don’t you?” She injected a cold, regal note into her tone.

  He eyed her for an uncomfortable moment. “Mr. Chase has agreed to teach you how to manage the petty monies while I am gone.”

  That did not answer her question. Although Lucinda felt a quick stab of pleasure at the small token of responsibility he had afforded her, that alone would not accomplish her greater goal. She forced herself to finish the distance to the desk. “Will you keep your word?” she demanded.

  Lucinda didn’t like the hard words spilling from her mouth, and even less the dislike that flashed in his eyes. She didn’t like anyone hating her. Even Riel. This was going to prove harder than she had thought.

  “Sit.” With a flick of his wrist, he slid the Queen Anne chair beside him again.

  Lucinda lowered herself gingerly.

  Tightly coiled displeasure simmered in him. She had succeeded in stoking his ire still further. She should feel pleased, not distressed. Wasn’t it her goal to be rid of him?

  Yes. She must persevere. If she kept the pressure on, tonight he’d snap, and she would gain her most important goal.

  A slither of unease accompanied that thought. Truly, a dangerous game.

  Did she want him to leave? Or not?

  Yes. She did, she assured herself. This evening’s plan would surely tip him over the edge, and he would leave tomorrow. Right now—during the day—she must only keep him wound up so tight that this evening his tenacious self-control would finally crack.

  One of two things would happen then. Either he’d strike her, which she would report to Mr. Chase, who would surely champion her cause…or Riel would finally gallop off in a fury, unable to see the back of her fast enough. With the first, the solicitor would never allow Riel to sign guardianship papers if he saw a bruise upon her person. He’d call the constable, who would permanently escort Riel from Ravensbrook’s premises. Either way, she would achieve her objective. However, unease and fear quailed within her.

  Riel watched her, his black eyes hard. She swallowed.

  Gathering her wits and courage, Lucinda reached for the ledger and found the place where they had left off yesterday. “Explain what these monies are used for,” she ordered, her voice cold. Unfortunately, it trembled, ever so slightly.

  “Give it up, Lucinda,” he said softly.

  She met his gaze. “I do not know whereof you speak. Teach me the ledgers. Now, please.”

  Footsteps shuffled in the doorway. “Lemonade?” Mrs. Beatty carried a tray bearing a pitcher and two glasses. “Lady Sophia thought a cool drink might refresh you.”

  “Thank you,” Lucinda and Riel said at the same time. She cast him a quick, uneasy glance. After delivering the drinks and leaving the pitcher, the housekeeper left.

  Mrs. Beatty’s appearance had interrupted Lucinda’s focused mindset. She struggled to reacquire her resolve to behave like an icy brat. “If you would be so kind,” she said haughtily. Looking down her nose, she pointed to the ledger.

  To her shock, Riel snapped the book shut on her finger.

  “How dare you?”

  He gave her a thin-lipped smile. “Now the true Lucinda comes out.”

  “I will thank you to teach me…”

  “I will thank you to behave like a civilized young woman. Do not treat me like a servant, and do not stare at me as if butter won’t melt in your mouth.”

  She glared back. “You agreed to teach me the ledgers.”

  “And so I will.” He leaned back in his chair and sipped his frosty drink. Though he pretended to be relaxed, his white knuckled fingers gripping the glass belied it.

  Lucinda struggled for an answer. She wanted to antagonize him still further, but she also truly wanted to understand how the ledgers worked. Perhaps accounting was not a lady’s typical occupation, but the money was hers. Before she ceded control of Ravensbrook to anyone, including her future husband, she wanted to understand how her father had run it. She wanted to make sure Ravensbrook would be cared for properly, and the only way to achieve that goal was to understand it thoroughly herself.

  “Teach me, then,” she commanded.

  He lowered his glass with a soft click and flipped shut another book.

  “Stop!”

  But he continued to close ledgers.

  She flew to her feet. “Fine. I’ll study them on my own!” She made a wild scrabble for the books, and gathered them all into her arms. To her surprise, Riel did not stop her.

  He leaned back in his chair and watched as she hugged the ledgers tightly to her bosom. A smile that was not a smile curved his lips. “Enjoy your studies.”

  Teeth gritted, Lucinda swiped up her drink, not caring that great splotches spilled on her dress. “That is exactly what I shall do. Good day, Mr. Montclair.”

  Whirling, she stalked from the room, her back as stiff as a poker. She longed to slam the door, but had no free hand. As she crossed the threshold, she heard a faint sound behind her. Was that a chuckle?

  Lucinda ground her teeth. She would show him. She would learn it all without his arrogant, condescending help.

  And then Lucinda realized a horrible truth. She was the infuriated one. Not Riel. Darkly, she remembered this evening’s plot. She would win the ultimate victory over him then. It could not come quickly enough for her taste.

  That ruffian had to go, and now.

  * * * * *

  Lucinda spent the afternoon struggling to make sense of the ledgers. She even tried to enlist Sophie’s help, but the older lady laughed and dismissively fluttered her fingers. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about it, child. Ask Riel. He understands all of those bothersome, tedious facts
.”

  “You never wanted to understand?”

  “Why would I? My husband took care of it for fifty years. And now I have Riel. Why should I bother myself? Iveny is run splendidly.” Sophie sipped her tea. Tiny tea leaves swirled in the hot liquid. Lucinda had noticed that Sophie always spooned in dried leaves from a small pouch she kept close at hand. Perhaps a special blend.

  Her mind turned to other questions. Iveny. She had thought the Baron’s land was in France. But wasn’t Sophie from England? “Does Riel—Mr. Montclair—own your estate?”

  “Yes, but he still considers it mine. My husband and I agreed it would pass to Riel when my husband died. Riel is the only of our remaining relatives we could stand. I love him dearly.”

  “Iveny is in England?”

  “Yes.”

  Lucinda mulled over this fact. “But I thought he said he owns an estate in France.”

  “So he does. I’m his aunt on his mother’s side. He also owns property in France through his father’s relatives.”

  “But he’s taken Iveny’s title.”

  “Because titles were abolished in France.” Sophie’s bright blue eyes twinkled at her confusion. “If he chose to use his French title, he would be the equivalent of an English Duke. The Duke of Montclair.”

  Shock rippled through her. Riel, a Duke? Disenfranchised though he was…but still.

  “Does it make a difference, dear?” Sophie asked, her eyes sharp.

  “Of…of course not. I’m just surprised.”

  “Riel is a man full of surprises. One need only take the time to unwrap them.”

  To that, Lucinda could attest. Unfortunately, she felt certain many of his surprises would not come up smelling like roses, like his aunt believed. Lucinda admitted she was uncertain about his pirating activities. But she still sensed something dark in Riel Montclair. Much as he might try to claim honor and truth, he was hiding something. She knew it. What had his man Haskins said? They didn’t want to make the British suspicious of them.

  Not only that, but where did Riel plan to get his promised bounty to pay his crew? A prize he’d receive at the end of this week, no less. Tomorrow, more specifically.

  Yes. Riel was not a spotless lamb. These were just two of many reasons why she must drive him from Ravensbrook with all speed. The fact he irked her beyond measure was only the icing on the cake. He would go tonight.

  * * * * *

  At supper that night, Lucinda made polite conversation with Sophie. But in the back of her mind, her secret plot roiled. She tweaked and tuned it as she forked up dessert, which was a delicious raspberry trifle. By turns, she felt excited and sick with nerves.

  Lucinda managed to finish the meal without speaking to Riel more than once. A social faux pas of the highest order. Did he notice the snub? Or had her rudeness failed to anger him still more? Frustratingly, she could not tell.

  Sophie put down her napkin. “Good night, dears. I must thank Mrs. Beatty for the delicious meal. Will I see you before you leave tomorrow, Riel?”

  “We’ll meet Mr. Chase at eight o’clock, but I should return about nine and leave shortly after. Will you be up by then, Auntie?” A surprising twinkle gleamed in Riel’s dark eyes.

  Sophie patted his hand with an answering twinkle. “You naughty boy. You know my weakness and never cease to flaunt it.” To Lucinda, she said, “I am a most awful lie-abed. I cannot seem to rouse myself before nine o’clock. But for you, dear boy,” she returned her attention to her great-nephew, “I will get up at eight o’clock sharp.”

  Riel smiled and lifted Sophie’s hand to his lips. “Your sacrifice is appreciated.”

  Sophie giggled like a schoolgirl and retrieved her hand. “Enough of this foolishness. Goodnight, Lucinda.”

  “Goodnight. …La,” Lucinda gave a fake yawn, “I believe I will retire, as well.” She stood with Riel as Sophie slowly shuffled from the room. Lucinda gave Riel the barest of nods. “Mr. Montclair.” She headed for the door.

  “We will leave for Mr. Chase’s house at seven-thirty.” His mild voice stopped her in her tracks.

  With a faint frown, Lucinda turned to him. “How good of you to inform me.”

  “Will you be ready?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I will be ready, Mr. Montclair. Of that you may be certain.”

  “Good. Before you retire, please return the ledgers to me. I want to study them before returning them to Mr. Chase.”

  “Perfect.” She could not squash her gleeful smile. Now she knew where he’d be all evening. Then Lucinda realized her slip. “I mean,” she said quickly, “I will fetch them immediately.”

  Lucinda felt his hard stare following her. She had left the books in the conservatory, and quickly retrieved them. Riel met her in the hall outside the study and relieved her of their weight. “Did you understand them?”

  “What?” Lucinda had been so busy rehearsing her plan that it took a moment to comprehend what he was talking about. When she did, however, she refused to answer. He knew she had understood little of the ledgers, and likely wanted to rub her nose in it. Never mind. Soon he would pay. Satisfaction curved her lips.

  His gaze rested on her face. “What are you plotting, Lucy?”

  Lucy again. Had he already forgotten her unspeakable behavior this morning? Not to mention this evening? Hopefully not. Not if her plan was to succeed.

  “My head is dancing with sugar plums, Mr. Montclair,” she said archly. “Sweet dreams beckon me.”

  His dark brows lowered. “Sweet as roses? Or wicked, like their thorns?”

  She grinned, unable to help herself. “Risk makes their nectar all the more sweet. I plan to harvest a bushelful of roses tonight, Mr. Montclair. I hope you will do the same.” She would leave him with the thorns, that was for sure.

  With that oblique taunt, she lightly ran up the stairs. Finally. Time to execute her closing act. Her heart pounded with anticipation. Had she suddenly developed a penchant for danger? Or had their latest confrontation only fueled her desire to best him in their battle of wills?

  Neither was a good motivation, she mentally chastised herself. The plan was dangerous. She had orchestrated it to be so.

  But perhaps she could enjoy ruffling his feathers a little, too.

  Well, that might be possible for a while… Until the end.

  * * * * *

  Lucinda waited until utter darkness cloaked the house, and the hall clock chimed ten o’clock. Experience told her Mrs. Beatty would work in the kitchen for an hour longer. She counted upon this fact for her plan to succeed.

  Gathering her courage, Lucinda finally slipped into the silent hallway, wiggled out of the upstairs hall window and speedily descended the latticed trellis to the ground. It had been seven years since she’d last attempted it, but she remembered the broken slats, and thankfully additional ones did not break beneath her increased weight.

  So far, so good. A sign, perhaps, that her plan would succeed. Lights still glowed in the kitchen, and she spotted Mrs. Beatty preparing dough for tomorrow morning’s rolls. A peek in the study window proved Riel was hard at work studying the ledgers. She smiled to herself and made haste for the stables.

  Lucinda quickly saddled Old Ben and led him into the faint moonlight. She hated taking even a small risk with her beloved horse, but in her defense, she planned only to trot across the lawn before the study window until she felt sure Riel saw her. The lawn was level and safe. Then she’d gallop off and hide among the trees in the forest for a good long while, just to give Riel time to bubble into a good rage. And then she’d return to face the music.

  Her throat felt dry, and she swallowed. Mrs. Beatty would surely protect her if things went too far.

  Her heart pounded harder. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

  Of course it was. She could do this. She must do this. No pirate would gain control of her home, or her life.

  Old Ben trustingly walked beside her until she reached the house, and then she hoisted herself into th
e saddle and trotted back and forth on the lawn in front of the study window. All the while, she kept her eyes trained for any change in Riel’s expression. Then she would flee.

  Her muscles felt unbearably tense. She found it difficult to relax in the saddle and enjoy the leisurely ride.

  A good many minutes passed, and Riel still did not look up. Lucinda felt a little sick now with anticipation, and her palms sweated in the cool evening. She had to get Riel’s attention before Mrs. Beatty went to bed.

  Time to take drastic action.

  She dismounted, gathered up an array of small stones in her fist and mounted her steed again. Lightly, she tossed the smallest at the window frame. Nothing. She reined Old Ben to a stop and threw another pebble, but harder this time. Crack!

  Hopefully it hadn’t chipped the window, she thought uneasily, and then her blood surged, for Riel glanced up. He saw her. Those black brows came together like a thundercloud and he bolted to his feet.

  With a choking little gasp, Lucinda dug her knees in Old Ben’s sides. Startled, the old horse lurched into a wild gallop across the lawn. Lucinda let him have his head, for the lawn was smooth and safe. Once she was out of sight of the house, however, she pulled up on the reins.

  “Whoa, boy,” she whispered. “Don’t want to break a leg.” It wasn’t pitch dark, not with the stars and sliver of moon hanging overhead, but it was difficult to see.

  Lucinda urged Old Ben slowly into the forest. If she hadn’t played on these lands since she was a child, she would be quickly lost. As it was, her knowledge played directly into her hand.

  Now to let Riel stew for a while. She glanced overhead and gauged the position of the moon against the tallest tree. She’d let it move an inch or more, and then return home.

  Long moments crept by, and goose flesh prickled up on her arms. Lucinda wished she had brought a cloak. For a summer night, it was surprisingly chilly. Still, it could not be helped. Better a little discomfort now, than two years of it later.