“Drake!” she screamed, watching with horror as a burly sailor raised a barrel stave behind Drake’s head while Drake fought off one of de Lacy’s guards with his sword.
With a powerful riposte and a quick sidestep, Drake threw off the other’s sword and turned to slash his cowardly attacker. The sailor fell, and the clash of swords rang out again as the guard regained his footing. Eileen crawled out of the stairwell and grabbed a water barrel. With her mother’s help they turned the container on its side and shoved until it rolled across the deck, directly toward the guard’s legs.
With a laugh of triumph Drake leapt out of the way just as the barrel collided with his opponent, throwing the other man off balance and into the waters below. In a single stride he crossed the space to Eileen and grabbed her by the waist, planting a resounding kiss upon her cheek.
“Well done, princess!” And then with a proud grin at the burden she carried, he boasted, “Twins! I told you!”
There was no time to exchange pleasantries. Eileen’s mother yanked a knife from the hand of a fallen sailor and entered the fray. Pulling Eileen into the shelter of the bulkhead, Drake shouted and signaled for Michael to join them. Catching Eileen by surprise, he shoved her into his friend’s arms.
“Get her to my ship and tell the captain to get the hell out of here. This isn’t the Barbary coast and pirates aren’t welcome. We’ll have the gendarmes on us soon, and I’ll not have the brats born in this hole.”
With this terse message Drake raced after her mother, leaving Eileen to Michael’s care.
Too shocked to protest more than a cry for her mother, Eileen found herself lifted in Michael’s arm and carried unceremoniously to the side of the ship, where she was handed in a most unseemly fashion to arms waiting below.
Before she realized what had happened, grappling hooks were removed, anchors weighed, and sails unfurled. Drake’s ship caught the ebbing tide, and the stormy breeze blew them out to sea—without Drake or her mother.
Chapter 23
England, November, 1746
Eileen leaned against the cabin wall and watched the previous day’s storm clouds disappear over the horizon. After these past weeks of tension she felt too drained to make sense of yesterday’s battle. All she knew was that Drake was alive and the babe was safe. To question why she was on this ship without him would just cause grief and worry she did not feel prepared to handle.
She gave Michael a smile as he fought the cold wind to reach her sheltered position. There had been no time to talk earlier. They had watched from the deck of Drake’s ship until they had seen Drake’s men control de Lacy’s craft. Then Eileen had retired in exhaustion below.
“You should not be out here in this cold,” Michael admonished. Without his wig, his short-cropped fair hair provided little frame for his broad, square face, but his eyes were gentle and saved his features from plainness.
“It is too good to be alive to complain of a little cold. Tell me, how will the others return if we have taken Drake’s ship?” She worried about her mother as much as Drake. Elizabeth wasn’t frail. . . but her state of mind depended on so much.
Michael shoved his hands in the deep pockets of his coat. “I daresay Drake will purloin de Lacy’s craft, if he can, but Sir John had made arrangements, too. That is not a matter of concern.”
Eileen pulled her cloak around her and studied Michael. He seemed more distant than she remembered, more reluctant to speak openly. Had she misjudged his feelings that badly when she ran off with Drake? She had not thought there was any more than affection between them, but even that seemed less than she remembered.
“There is some other matter of concern?” she asked.
Michael shifted his weight uneasily. He had misunderstood Eileen’s character from the very first, blinded by his gratitude and eagerness for the opportunity she offered. He still did not understand her completely, but he saw her better now. She was no silent, compliant child who needed his protection, but a woman with a will and a mind of her own. He did not object to that, but it did not make his task less difficult.
“You,” he finally blurted out. “And Drake,” he amended, with a touch of anger.
Eileen raised her eyebrows. “Unless de Lacy escapes, I am safe now. I fail to see how I may be a matter of concern. Is Drake still in trouble? Are you telling me he is still a criminal and cannot return after us?”
“Oh, hell, Eileen!” Michael exploded, pacing up and down. “The last I heard, Edmund was under suspicion, and Drake needed only the formalities for the charges against him to be dropped. That’s not my concern, and you know it.”
Bewildered, Eileen watched his pacing. “Then, what is it? If it is the loss of my dowry that worries you, I am certain Drake will find some means of making it up to you. I regret what we have done to you in return for all your kindnesses, but. . .”
Michael threw up his hands in surrender. “Diane and I have agreed that it would be best if our betrothal remains unbroken and the weddings went on as planned before. Drake cannot marry you and Pamela. I was not convinced you would agree, but now that there is a child in question. . .” He faltered. “Tongues will wag when both brides walk to the altar as mothers, but there is some small justification that yours could be mine. Drake will have to claim Lady Pamela’s.”
Pamela carried Drake’s child? Just minutes before, the sky had appeared clear and blue, but clouds had come from nowhere to obscure the sun. Eileen fought a shiver. Lady Pamela. How easily she had forgotten the grand Lady Pamela. Of course, that child would be Drake’s, the product of centuries of noble breeding and aristocratic heritage. The Lady Pamela would make a perfect marchioness and raise well-bred little lords and ladies.
She fought a wave of despair.
The child—or children—kicking within Eileen’s womb was the product of an eccentric Irishman and the hoyden daughter of a country squire. The only lineage she knew of was a mad uncle and Catholic grandparents. She had learned no manners or etiquette, knew nothing of Drake’s society or entertaining. Her children would most likely be rebellious brats unacceptable to any level of society. Drake had married her out of desperation only. Now everything had changed.
Refusing to reveal her grief and despair, Eileen lifted her chin. The fact that Drake had told no one, not even Diane, of his marriage spoke all she needed to know. “Thank you, Michael, but I will not ask you to honor our betrothal. I know now that we would not suit. Tell me, how is Diane? How has she come through this upheaval?”
Left floundering by this reaction to his noble offer, Michael attempted to find an even keel again. “She is worried about both of you. Drake should think of these things before he cavorts off on these mad escapades. She is not well at all, and I lay the blame on him.”
Startled by his unusual vehemence, Eileen set aside her own concerns and contemplated this new development. Michael appeared more animated than usual, and a flicker of something in his eyes caught her interest.
“Diane’s health has never been a problem. You are saying she is worrying herself ill?”
Michael ran his hand through his hair, and anxiety lined his face. “She is so helpless. I think it eats at her soul not to be able to take things into her own hands and make them right. She can only sit and pray someone will listen. I wanted to tear Edmund into mincemeat when he began erecting those damned fences, but I had no right to do anything. Diane had to listen to the villagers’ complaints and make promises she could not keep. Edmund listened to nothing she said. He even threatened to fire me, but Drake had drawn up a contract so tight he could not touch it. All he could do was ignore all my suggestions. Diane cried when he had the commons plowed under and, damn it all, I could do nothing!”
Eileen widened her eyes at this revelation from hitherto so taciturn a man. A hint of a smile played about her lips as she recognized the symptoms.
“You love her, don’t you?” Eileen put her hands in her pockets and let the wind whip back her cloak.
He sco
wled. “That is not to the point. The point is that Drake has much to account for. If it were not for Diane, I would call him out. As it is, I think we had best marry quickly and discreetly before he returns. Once Diane knows you are both safe, she will come around.”
Eileen smiled at this innocence. “Michael, you are a very good man, and I love you dearly—as a friend. Is there any chance that Diane might love you as something more?”
Michael began to look irritated. “Do you listen to nothing I say? How do I know how Diane feels? What difference would it make? Any man would be lucky to have a woman like that, but, fool that she is, she thinks she cannot be a wife unless she is a ‘whole’ woman, whatever that might be. You have two legs, but I’m not certain you have half a head. Does that make you less a woman?”
The need to laugh was overwhelming. She was alive and Drake was alive and their child was strong and kicking. Perhaps everything had not turned out as planned, but Eileen held too much respect for life to allow its blows to hold her down.
“Did you know you are very cute when you are angry?” Eileen asked outrageously. Before he could murder her, she added, “Michael, I am listening to you. I am listening with a heart that loves as surely as does your own. I must follow my heart and so must you. Diane is of age. She needs no one’s permission to marry. As her husband you will have the right to protect her from the Edmunds of this world. And the Drakes, if necessary.”
Michael stared at Eileen’s upturned face for confirmation of what he had heard. Arched eyebrows held a hint of amusement, but the soft glow of her eyes gave all the evidence he needed. He would have to kill Drake, after all.
“Sir John cannot exert the same influence as Pamela’s father. Drake cannot marry you, Eileen,” he argued.
That was scarcely her problem, but the less said about their hasty marriage, the better. Her mother might say otherwise, but she could only manage one worry at a time. If Drake wished to seek a quiet annulment, she would not stand in his way. She knew her own faults as well as any. Eileen shrugged.
“Perhaps I am not meant for marriage. It does not worry me as it ought. But you and Diane are of a different sort. I think she needs you, Michael.”
Michael looked uncomfortable. “Perhaps so, but not as a husband. She has made it quite clear that she does not intend to marry. I am a man, Eileen, with a man’s normal desires, but I would not even ask that of her if I thought she would have me. But she is too proud to accept my offer or any man’s.”
Eileen touched his face, then took his arm, indicating she wished to return to her cabin. He protected her from the worst of the wind with his bulk as he led her down the deck.
“Diane is angry that she cannot walk or ride or run with any children that she might have, but it is not her inability to bear children that keeps her from marrying. It is only her legs that are damaged, not the rest of her.” Eileen spoke quietly, not facing him, giving him time to absorb what she said without embarrassment.
“You can’t be certain of that.” Michael stalled, unwilling to believe what she offered.
“I cannot be certain the sun will rise tomorrow, either. I only know what Diane has told me. She has badgered her doctors for years with questions they cannot answer, but that is one they can, however unwillingly. They have hemmed and hawed and spoke of difficulties, but they all agree, physically she is capable of having children. That is not the part that worries Diane.”
“You are telling me I must convince her that her useless legs mean nothing to the way I feel for her. That is not easily done. I am not a man of wealth. She may think I say what I do simply for the money she represents.”
Eileen stopped at the door of her cabin. “Tell her you will take a position with my uncle, and she must learn to live on an estate manager’s income. If she loves you, she will take you anyway. Just take good care of her, Michael, or I will regret telling you all of this.”
Michael caught her hand and prevented her from escaping. “I still cannot desert you like this. Your child needs a name. If Drake will not provide. . .” Eileen shook her hand free. “The child has a name, Michael. I cannot marry you. I am already married.” Without any other explanation, she disappeared into her room and closed the door.
Fog covered the coast as the ship anchored in the bay. A dory carried Michael and Eileen to land where they walked to a familiar tavern. They warmed themselves before the blazing fire while Mortimer Drew ordered a carriage to carry them on the remainder of their journey. The cold November night held no hospitality, but Eileen was eager to leave. She had had plenty of time to make her plans. Now she need only carry them out.
Mortimer drove the ancient equipage, leaving Michael and Eileen to sit in silence in the carriage’s musty interior. As Summer Hall grew visible, Michael took her hand. “Eileen, do not let me do something that is less than honorable. Sir John has placed his trust in me. Tell me truthfully, have I reason to call Drake out?”
Men and honor. Eileen sighed, not understanding their code. Life had little to do with honor and much to do with living. Honor was a pleasant thing to have, but dueling seldom encouraged it. She lied without a qualm.
“Drake has naught to do with anything. I ran away and I married. All Drake did was see to my comfort. Now go to Diane and tell her we are both well and happy and ask if she will join you in becoming the babe’s godparents.”
Michael kissed her hand as the carriage drew to a halt outside the Hall. “I doubt that I can believe a word you say, but if Sir John accepts it, it is all for the best. I mean to ride on tonight. Wish me luck.”
Eileen caressed his cheek. “I want to be the first to hear the news. Be quick.”
And still she lied, for she had no intention of being here when the news arrived.
Lady Summerville crowed with delight at Eileen’s return, but by the time Eileen had finished her tale, her aunt’s pretty features had grown pale and thoughtful. Her hand lingered on Eileen’s hair as she curled up on the stool beside her bed.
“I am so very sorry that I cannot be the daughter you want me to be,” Eileen finished miserably.
The miracle of hearing Eileen speak for the first time had shocked her aunt into accepting anything her niece told her. “You are a grown woman now, dear. You must act as you think best. I would not want you to be any other way.” She sighed and poured a glass of sherry for each of them. “I could dearly wish I and your mother could be with you in your lying-in. You should have family with you at such a time.”
“There are months before that must be considered. Perhaps all will be resolved by then.”
“Months?” Emma lifted an inquiring eyebrow to her niece’s unwieldy size. “I am surprised the child was not born aboard ship. Drake must be mad to send you off like that without a woman to tend to you.”
“Drake can count, Aunt Emma.” Eileen smiled. “This is only the end of November. The babe is not due until late in January. There is plenty of time.”
Her aunt looked dubious but had to accept the facts of the calendar. “I still do not think you ought to be traveling. There must be some easier way.”
“I’m not looking for an easy way. Drake must make a choice. I know of no other way to give it to him.”
“I suppose, in your own odd way, you are right, but things were never done that way in my time. I will have difficulty explaining it to your uncle.”
With a grin and a quick kiss to her understanding aunt’s cheek, Eileen replied, “I would advise explaining nothing. Men just don’t understand these things.”
Emma laughed. “Just don’t stay away so long this time. Now that we can talk, I will miss you more than ever.”
“When she returns, you will have my mother to gossip with. Just think of all the years that must be caught up on.” Hugging her aunt, Eileen left the room. It was always better to end farewells with laughter. She would be gone well before her aunt woke in the morning.
Quigley argued, not understanding why she should arrive one night and leave the
next morning, particularly in her delicate condition. He understood even less the reason for letting her out of the carriage in the middle of nowhere with no more than a small satchel to her name. He accused her of behaving more the traitor the soldiers sought than Lord Sherburne.
Eileen understood her faithful bodyguard’s objections, but she could offer him little reassurance. She thanked him for rising so early and pressed a coin in his palm to remind him of the need for his silence.
“If Sir John asks, I got to tell him, miss,” Quigley protested.
“Tell him you are only following Lady Summerville’s orders, Quigley. But if even Lady Summerville insists, then I suppose you must tell. It will not matter so greatly.”
Here, on her own territory, she could hide with ease, even if she could not move so quickly as before. Strangers could be seen from a goodly distance. She would have sufficient warning to disappear. No, Quigley could tell Sir John without harming a thing, now that she was home again.
Eileen smiled and waved as the carriage rattled away. Taking the short cut through his lordship’s orchards, where a few culls still clung to the trees, and through the woods of his lordship’s game preserve, she soon strode down the hill to the awakening village, whistling and munching on her breakfast of apples.
Chapter 24
England, December, 1746
Two weeks later, Drake rode his well lathered horse to a prancing halt at the foot of the long stairway to Sherburne. The jubilant grin on his face spoke of a race well run. His cousin was still whipping his mount up the drive. He swung eagerly from the saddle and took the steps two at a time, nearly beating the footman to the door.
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