The Pirate's Desire

by Jennette Green

  Peter had reassured him that God had forgiven all his sins when Riel had asked for it. Most of the time Riel believed it, but other times, like now, the guilt, anger and grief for what had happened, and what he’d done, welled up, tormenting him over and over again. His past would forever deny him a true life. It would deny him a future, and keep him forever alone.

  Riel knew it wasn’t just because of Lucy that the old feelings were rising up and threatening to swallow him. In fact, he could count on one hand the number of times that had happened over the last several years.

  It was because of Warrington.

  Surely the man had never seen Riel before; if so, surely Warrington did not remember him. Riel did not remember Jonathon. All those years ago, the present Duke would have been a boy; perhaps thirteen. But that name…that name Riel knew all too well. That name had almost signed his death warrant. That name had begun all of this misery.

  He sat on the edge of his bed, clenched knuckles digging into his scalp, and struggled against the old feelings of guilt, impotent fury and worthlessness. He forced himself to remember how far he had come. More men than Peter believed him to be a man of honor and integrity now. It was the man he wanted to be. The man he intended to be.

  He could not change the past. Hopefully Warrington knew nothing about it. If he did, Riel’s life as he now knew it would end. He would be unable to fulfill his promise to Peter. He would be unable to protect Lucy.

  That could not happen. He would not allow it.

  For now, Riel would face the future one day at a time. So far, all was well. As long as Jonathon did not remember, Lucy would be safe.

  In a low, harsh voice, he prayed, asking God for the ability to protect Lucy until another could safely take care of her. Then he would go, and Lucy would be pleased to finally be rid of him.

  Riel tried to ignore the burn of pain he felt. In truth, it did not matter what Lucy thought of him. He had a job to do, and a promise to fulfill. And he would fulfill it, no matter the ultimate cost to himself.

  * * * * *

  Lucinda had hurt Riel’s feelings. She had suspected it last night, but it became clearer on Christmas, which dawned as a bright, sunny day.

  Lucinda had never thought she could possibly touch Riel’s feelings. He always seemed so strong and detached from the world around him—and from her. But last night, when she’d told Riel that dancing with him was a horror she could barely endure…it had cut him somehow.

  She had said it. But she hadn’t meant it. Not at all. In fact, it had been a lie; the ultimate tongue-in-cheek irony, and the complete opposite of how she truly felt. She’d said it only to protect herself. And to push him away. She had succeeded.

  Lucinda watched him now, and she felt bad about how she had hurt him. Riel seemed unusually quiet and reserved this morning.

  They had all gathered in the parlor around the Christmas tree. Snow sparkled outside, reflecting cold winter light into the room. Lucinda had purchased presents for Sophie, of course, and for the staff. In addition, the staff bonuses had already been received with exclamations of gratitude. But she had nothing for Riel.

  Only two presents remained. One for her, and one for Sophie. Both from Riel.

  “Open yours first,” she urged Sophie.

  As eager as a child, the older lady ripped at the fine gold paper with her well-manicured nails. “Oh!” Mouth rounded, Sophie pulled out a light blue, fluffy confection. A shawl, they discovered, when she shook it out. Sophie pressed it to her cheek. “I love it, Riel. You dear boy! It’s cashmere, isn’t it?”

  “Only the best for you, Auntie.” He kissed her cheek and she kissed him back, and then she promptly arranged the shawl about her shoulders.

  “It’s perfect. Just what I need.” Aunt and great-nephew looked to Lucinda next.

  Her package felt light, and just the shape of Sophie’s. A careful ripping of paper revealed a lemon yellow shawl, which felt as soft as a kitten. Tears of pleasure stung her eyes. “Riel! Thank you.”

  He nodded, and gathered up the bits of paper.

  “I…I’m sorry,” Lucinda said. “I have nothing for you.”

  He barely glanced at her. “It is all right.”

  “It’s not.”

  He stopped what he was doing and gave her a long look. “It is not.”

  As if sensing the undercurrent in the room, Sophie rose to her feet and shuffled for the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen, fetching a cup of tea.”

  When she had gone, Riel slowly lowered his big frame onto the couch beside Lucinda. “What did you mean?”

  Unexpected tears prickled her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why? Because you think you hurt my feelings?”

  He referred to last night, Lucinda knew it. “Didn’t I? I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “You hate me. At last I understand that. Do not apologize for how you feel.” He looked away, but not before she saw a flash of vulnerability, deep in his eyes.

  One of her comments had finally hurt him. And she was sorry. “No, Riel. I didn’t mean what I said last night. And I don’t hate you, either.”

  He glanced back with a frown. “You do not?”

  The truth must be spoken, but it was hard to get out. Lucinda didn’t hate him, but she didn’t want him to rule her entire life, either. How to say that? And he disturbed her. But she certainly couldn’t tell him that! She licked her lips and whispered, “No.”

  Riel regarded her steadily, but still with a faint hint of disbelief. “If you don’t hate me, then what do you feel for me?”

  She didn’t know!

  Lucinda managed to say, “I respect you. I believe you can be gentle and kind, because you treat your aunt that way.”

  “Do you still want me gone, Lucy?”

  Didn’t she? Why didn’t she say “yes”?

  Because she wouldn’t mean it. Not entirely. It was an alarming admission to make to herself. While she did want to be in charge of her own life, she didn’t particularly want to see the back of her unwanted guardian, either. Lucinda felt confused. Nothing made sense.

  So she struggled for more words. “I…I appreciate how you intervened with Jonathon last night. He was going a bit fast, and for a minute I didn’t know what to do. I would have managed,” she hastened to make plain, “but it made it easier for you to be the ogre. That way I didn’t have to reject him.”

  “I’m glad you’re wise enough not to go anywhere alone with Jonathon.”

  Indignantly, Lucinda returned, “I would never go anywhere alone with a man!”

  “Is that a promise? In case I miss some of your coming Season?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.”

  “You may not be back for the Season?” Lucinda again felt a curious sense of disappointment. Tomorrow he would leave. When would she see him again? More importantly, she told herself, how would it affect her Season in London?

  “I do not know. Sophie will chaperone you as best she can. I will need to ask you to curtail your activities to those she is well enough to attend.”

  Lucinda felt a stab of disappointment, and then an idea flashed to mind. “Amelia said she and her mother are going down for a month. What if Lady Carlisle chaperones the events Sophie cannot make?”

  He nodded. “I will accept that.” After a moment, Riel spoke again, slowly. “If Sophie’s attacks get no better, you may not be able to go to London at all.”

  “But I must. How else will I meet new people?”

  A log collapsed in the fireplace, sending a shower of sparks into the screen.

  “You mean a potential husband.” He stood abruptly and headed for the poker.

  “No. Father didn’t want me to marry until I’m twenty. That’s over a year and a half away. I’m not ready to find a husband, and then pine for him until I turn twenty.”

  “No?” Amusement twitched his mouth, and for the first time that morning, tension seemed to relax from his broad shoulders.

/>   “Of course not. I want to have fun. I’m tired of being stuck here at Ravensbrook.” Lucinda became aware that she might sound like a spoiled child. “I mean, I love it here, and Sophie has made it even more fun, but I want to go somewhere different. Do something new.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “It’s why you love the sea,” she guessed.

  “Yes.” He replaced the poker and paced back. “I think Sophie wants to return to Iveny. She puts on a brave front, but she feels ill.”

  Lucinda nodded with understanding. “She wants the comfort of home and her friends.” It was exactly what Sophie needed. Why hadn’t she seen it?

  “I’ll need your help to convince her it is all right to go home.”

  Riel needed her help? Lucinda stood up too, and shut away the lick of depression she felt at the thought of her friend leaving. Of being alone at Ravensbrook. “Do you think I will manage well enough on my own?”

  “Will you?” His dark gaze held hers. It seemed like a test, and Lucinda stiffened her spine. Isn’t this what she wanted—freedom, and the chance to prove to Riel that she could run her life without his intervention? “Of course. Mrs. Beatty and Wilson are here. I’ll be fine.”

  “I am placing my trust in you, Lucy. Do not disappoint me.”

  “What sort of trouble could I get into here, in the dead of winter? There’s nothing to do!”

  “You will obey me about the Season? If Sophie cannot go, neither will you.”

  “I will go with Amelia and her mother.” One month in London would be better than none.

  Riel looked down at her. Unreadable emotions flickered through his black eyes. “I feel like I am shirking my word to your father. I am the one who should be here, watching over you and taking you to London.”

  “I’ve told you before that I need no guardian. Let me prove it to you.”

  He growled and thrust a large hand into his hair. It looked smooth, scraped back into that tail. Lucinda wondered if it was. She stood still, watching the play of emotions over his blunt, angled face, and the thick bunching of muscles under the deceptively civilian veneer of his superfine jacket. He was a big man, and he was strong. She remembered the feel of him, dancing with him last night, and her cheeks warmed.

  “You may go with Amelia, as long as the Carlisles don’t stay with Warrington.” His dark gaze focused on her once more, and then unexpectedly dipped to run over her flushed cheeks. She drew an unsteady breath, and willed herself to stop standing there like a ninny, staring at him. His gaze drifted to her mouth, and then rose to meet hers.

  Lucida blushed again, feeling warmer. “Very well. Shall we speak to Aunt Sophie now?”

  He stared at her for another moment, as if trying to comprehend the reason for her blush. Lucinda wished for nothing less. She didn’t want Riel to gather any misconstrued ideas.

  “Are you coming?” Gathering up her skirts, she turned and swept from the room. Time to convince Sophie to return to Iveny.

  * * * * *

  When Riel readied for bed that evening he felt satisfied with the day’s accomplishments. Sophie had reluctantly agreed to return to Iveny, and Lucy had agreed to abide by his rules concerning her upcoming Season. He’d also written a note to Lady Carlisle.

  Riel wanted to be present for Lucy’s time in London, but knew it was unlikely. It bothered him, for he’d promised Peter he would protect her at all times. Was he skirting his duty in order to protect his ship?

  Logic told him she would be fine. Lucy had sworn she did not want to become involved with any men during this Season. Knowing this, Riel felt relatively certain the wolves would circle her, biding their time until next year.

  Lucy had also agreed to be chaperoned, and had sworn she would spend no time alone with any young men. Riel did trust her, although he did not necessarily trust the young bucks of the ton. Warrington would be there, and Riel distrusted him; for more reasons than were perhaps fair. At the very least, he felt certain the man was a rake. Lucy, sweet, innocent and beautiful, would be choice prey for a man like Jonathon.

  Fury surged in him at the thought. His fists clenched, and Riel forcibly ordered himself to relax.

  No harm would come to Lucy. It would not. Riel tried to shut his mind to the thought of someone closing in on her with the goal of despoiling her innocence…of hurting her. His heart pounded harder, and his jaw hurt from clenching it.

  He needed to be there. Much as he tried to convince himself that Lucy was in no danger—that it was only his past and his promise to Peter rising up to warp his mind—it didn’t help. Riel felt a sick feeling in his gut. Lucy would be easy prey for a felon.

  He strode to the mirror and forced himself to look himself in the eyes. They looked black and fiercely wild. Slowly, he relaxed, willfully focusing into the present.

  The past was done. Desalt and the other man were dead. Lucy was in no danger like Pen had been. Maybe it was a good thing Riel would miss Lucy’s Season. Ever since seeing Warrington, the past had flamed up, again and again haunting him. He might not be as objective as he’d like to be. In fact, he just might find trouble where none existed. Never did he want to make a mistake like that again.

  Lucinda would be in no danger under Amelia’s mother’s eagle eye, nor under Sophie’s, either. And, more importantly, Lucy had no intention of getting serious about any young man this year. So the potential danger would be minimized.

  Next year would be the dicey one. Riel hoped for Bonaparte’s defeat by then. Even if not, Riel would watch Lucy like a hawk every minute of next year’s Season. Even if it meant losing his ship.

  * * * * *

  After Riel left for his ship and Sophie left for Iveny, each day at Ravensbrook seemed to stretch out into unbearably long and empty hours. Lucinda missed the chats she and Sophie had enjoyed over tea each morning in the conservatory. Mrs. Beatty was willing to talk if Lucinda lingered in the kitchen after breakfast, but afterward, the housekeeper attended other chores about the mansion. Lucinda felt very alone.

  She cajoled Mr. Chase into teaching her more about Ravensbrook’s accounts, but even that took up little of her day. Lucinda missed having someone to talk to.

  She even missed Riel. Quite against her will, she remembered again and again how he had said goodbye to her, that day after Christmas. Of course, first he’d told Sophie goodbye in the parlor.

  Afterward, Lucinda followed him outside to his carriage. She’d told herself it was because she wanted a breath of the crisp, fresh air.

  After tossing his large bag into the carriage, Riel had turned to her, looking larger than ever in his black greatcoat. The blunt angles of his face seemed sharper that morning, his eyes blacker, his mouth sterner.

  “Will you write?” she found herself asking. Then hastened to add, “So I will know when to expect your return.”

  “Will you write to me, Lucy?”

  An unexpected flutter trembled through her heart. “If you would like me to, I will.”

  “I would.” His quick response and the directness of that black gaze unnerved her.

  “Very well, then.”

  “So agreeable.” His lips curved, faintly mocking.

  Their relationship had leveled out yesterday, and Lucinda was glad. Now she said pertly, “You are a difficult man to please. Do you wish for sugar or spice?”

  He smiled then, a full one. “I like both, in equal measures.”

  Her heart pounded unexpectedly fast. Feeling slightly daring, she extended her hand. “Then here is the sugar, Mr. Montclair.”

  His warm fingers closed around hers, and to her shock, he raised her hand to his mouth. The touch of his lips warmed her skin like fire. He lowered her hand a little, but still held it. “And the spice?”

  Lucinda’s face felt hot, and she tugged at her hand. “Release me, or I will show you!”

  He chuckled, and released her. “There is my Lucy. I will miss you.”

  Lucy felt quite unable to say anything at all. His Lucy? Sh
e was not his Lucy! Except, why did she watch his carriage until it disappeared into the forest? Why did her life feel so empty without him in it?

  She was bored, that was the problem, Lucinda told herself as the days crept by from January to February to March. She spent occasional afternoons with Amelia and other friends, and while those times were fun, it didn’t remedy the despondency in her spirit.

  She did not miss that maddening man. He hadn’t even had the decency to write her one letter! She’d posted two. Both newsy tidbits, but nothing of a personal nature. One she’d carefully signed, “Your obedient servant, Lucinda.” The description made her snort with laughter, and she felt certain he would catch the irony she intended. If he received them. If his ship had not sunk, and he was not at the bottom of the sea.

  Lucinda tried not to dwell upon these stomach turning possibilities. He was fine. He was Riel, larger than life, and in command of every situation. No one would dare fire upon his ship. …Would they?

  Lucinda wrote weekly to Sophie, too, and Sophie replied nearly as often. Her handwriting looked spidery, and sometimes shakier than others. She claimed she was fine, but little hints told Lucinda that all was not as it should be. Once, Sophie mentioned the doctor had been out twice in one week. One time she mentioned lying abed and being bored to tears. Lucinda worried about Sophie’s health. And she wondered if Sophie would be able to make it to London for the Season.

  Lucinda finally wrote Sophie in the middle of March, when she was so bored one day she couldn’t stand it any longer, and asked if she might visit Iveny for a little while.

  That was when Sophie wrote her the truth. She was not well enough to receive visitors, and she would be unable to make it to London.

  Chapter Eleven

  May, 1813

  On May 1st, Lucinda packed up the new dresses the village modiste had made for her, along with various cases, valises and her reticule, and traveled with Amelia and her mother to London. She was excited to finally be able to go, short as the Season would be for her, but she still was worried about Sophie. At least Riel’s great-aunt felt well enough to invite Lucinda to stay for a week after her visit to London was over. Lucinda had quickly and gratefully accepted.