* * * *
The next morning her mother came to wake her and ask if she would like to have breakfast in bed.
“No, I am not ill, thank you. I will get up.”
“I can never thank the Marquis enough for what he has done for you and Gerard. He brought letters from Gerard that tell us a great deal more of his gallantry than either you or he did yesterday.”
With a tender smile, her mother left her, and she dressed quickly. Josselin was in the dining parlor when she went down, and her sisters were both pleading with him to tell them more about the adventures. He complied laughingly, and they were most indignant when Mistress Hurst took them away saying there was work to do.
Left on their own, Sibylla looked up at Josselin. “When must you go?” she asked in a little voice.
“Later today. I am to stay for dinner. Then I must leave.”
She was silent.
“Will you show me a little of your Devon countryside this morning?”
Listlessly she agreed, and asked if he preferred to walk or ride.
“Let us walk.”
They set off, and she took him to a hill from the summit of which they could see far around. She was naming the villages when he interrupted her.
“I do not wish to know their names.”
She looked at him, and he smiled so that her heart turned over.
“Time is too precious,” he went on.
“You are going in a few short hours,” she whispered.
“Yes, I have the evidence I need to clear me of the charges.”
“I am pleased for you.”
“It will only take me a week or so to clear up the business, and then I can come back.”
“Come back?” she repeated stupidly.
“If you wish it.”
“I?”
“Just for a short while.”
“I do not understand.” She was feeling numb with misery and very stupid.
“Just for long enough for us to be married, if you will have me, my dearest Sibylla.”
She looked blank for a moment, then her face transformed with joy. He moved to her, but suddenly she stepped back.
“You do not have to offer for me because we spent so much time alone together!” she said with a catch in her voice.
“What has that to do with it?”
“Nor because you said we were betrothed and think I might expect it of you,” she rushed on.
He laughed and caught her hands, pulling her to him.
“Do not be a silly little goose. I would never ask a girl to marry me for those reasons.”
Still she resisted.
“But you are rich, and come of a great family! We are not important, and I know I have only a small dowry.”
“I am rich, true. Rich enough to please myself and marry a penniless girl if I so desire.”
Sibylla could not believe he swept aside her objections.
“You ought to marry someone of your own rank, a French aristocrat!”
“I do not like any of them sufficiently,” he replied calmly. “Now, have you any more reasons for refusing me? Or is it that you could not love me? If so, tell me, but I do not think that is so, is it, my Sibylla?”
She shook her head vehemently.
“Why me? I do not understand!”
“Then let me explain, my obstinate one. You are beautiful, you are brave. You did not weep and plead with me when I captured you. Nor would you have accepted my advances had I made any. I might have used you as pirates often use women they capture, but I could see you were of finer, more delicate stuff than most women. Such treatment would have killed you.”
She gazed at him, silent and wide-eyed, scarcely able to comprehend his words.
“I very soon came to desire you more than the mere satisfaction of a physical need, though that was intense from the first moment I saw you. I came to cherish you, to want to care for you, to save you from villains such as Randolph. You need protecting, my innocent little one. I never again wish to see your lovely face marred by bruises as it was when we met.”
Gently he let his fingers caress her cheeks.
“Now do you understand?”
She nodded, no further objections occurring to her.
“I understand,” she said slowly, “but I cannot believe I am not dreaming!”
Firmly he folded his arms round her and kissed her for so long she felt she was drowning in ecstasy. When he finally released her, he smiled into her eyes.
“Well, do you accept now you know it is because I love you, and cannot do without you?”
“You never said so,” she murmured. “Why did you not tell me, instead of leaving me wondering all this time?”
“I thought I had made it all too obvious! I could not speak, my love, until I had seen your father. I may lead an odd life, and even be prepared to abduct and imprison you as a trophy of a privateer, but when it comes to my marriage I am utterly conventional! There shall be no stain on it or on my wife!”
She laughed tremulously.
“Oh, my dearest Josselin, I thought you would never tell me! I thought I had no hope, and I have loved you for so long, though at first I was afraid, after—”
“You will never be afraid again,” he promised, as he pulled her close once more. “I have waited so long for this, ever since I first saw you on that fishing boat. It has almost been beyond my power to prevent myself from kissing you, so many times. Now I insist on making up for my restraint!”
Which he proceeded to do for a very long time.
About the Author:
Marina Oliver is a Vice-President of the Romantic Novelists’ Association. She has published over fifty novels, a recent one being longlisted for the RNA’s Romantic Novel of the Year award, and several non-fiction books about writing and local history. She runs many workshops and writing courses, has lectured at major conferences and on cruise ships, reviews for the Historical Novel Society, has judged competitions, and does appraisals for the RNA and Storytracks. She also occasionally edits novels.
See more at www.marina-oliver.net or www.storytracks.net
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Sibylla and the Privateer Page 16