At that second she’d have promised anything to Lark. She was so glad to see him again. “I promise. But you must tell me about Sloane. I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“As far as I’m concerned, I don’t.” Lark sounded bitter. “Sloane was a mistake my father made with an indentured servant girl years ago. The girl died in childbirth and my mother took Sloane as her own child. She was determined to raise the boy and believe me when I tell you that Mother loved him like he was her own son. He was my little brother, and I loved him. Father loved him, too. But there was something vicious about Sloane, something not quite right. He was petty and jealous of everything I received, even if he got the exact same thing.”
“Maybe he acted that way because he sensed he was different.” Marlee empathized with Sloane. She knew how it felt to be part of a household where you weren’t truly wanted.
“Don’t feel sorry for him,” Lark warned. “Sloane never knew about his mother until he was almost fourteen, but by that time he’d done everything imaginable to turn us away from him. The little bastard would set fires to the stables; once he even started a small fire in the dining room because Mother told him he couldn’t have another serving of cobbler. Then valuables would disappear and we learned he’d been selling them in Williamsburg. Father finally had enough when Sloane was sixteen and gotten a neighbor’s daughter—” Lark broke off and took a deep, steadying breath. “Sloane refused to marry her and called her a whore to her face. The girl drowned herself. That was when Father ran him off, telling him never to return to Arden’s Grove.”
“How awful for all of you.” Marlee stroked Lark’s hand, until he stopped trembling. “How does Sloane happen to be here?”
“An odd quirk of fate, I guess. It seemed Sloane changed his name and joined the men Rogers had picked to clean up the island. I was part of that group. Imagine how I felt to be face to face with my bastard brother again. I’ve tried to put ill feelings aside, but he always manages to rankle me. Somehow Sloane just seems to know how to upset me.”
Marlee slipped into his arms, knowing she belonged there. She nestled her head against his chest. “Don’t think about him anymore,” she told him. “I’m happy that you’re here. I thought you’d gone off pirate hunting and had left me.”
“I wouldn’t do that. I had things to do before I could come here tonight.”
“Like arranging my passage to England?”
She felt him stiffen and then relax. “Yes.”
This time she stiffened and gazed at him through misty eyes. “I don’t want to go back. I want to stay with you.”
“Marlee, you can’t—”
“Why not?” she persisted and clung to the lapels on his jacket. “I love you.” She could see the torment on his face and was glad for it. Maybe he’d change his mind.
“You can’t stay. Don’t make this any harder than it already is. I’ve got to find Manuel Silva— there are—other—things I’ve got to do. I don’t have room in my life for you now, Marlee. Please understand.”
“But I don’t understand!” She drew away from him. “I can’t understand something if you don’t tell me what it is I’m supposed to understand. Why must you torment me?”
“I’m the one who’s tormented, Marlee. I’m the one.” He swooped down and captured her mouth in a kiss which seared her very soul. Like a captive wanton, she clung to him, reveling in the warmth and desire she felt. Surely he must love her. How could he not when she was bubbling over with love for him?
But the kiss ended as quickly as it had begun when Beatrix suddenly appeared and discreetly cleared her throat. Lark and Marlee guiltily broke away.
“I didn’t know you were here, Captain. Please join the gentlemen for a glass of rum. I know Woodes will be pleased to see you,” Beatrix invited pleasantly but her worried frown belied the invitation.
“Uh, no, I can’t. Please extend my apology to him.”
“I shall.”
Lark smiled sadly at Marlee. “Good night, my lady. Sleep well.” He left her standing on the terrace. She watched him depart from her, her gaze following his dark figure until he vanished into the velvet night.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Things were different, now that they were in what was loosely termed on New Providence as “polite society,” Lark bitterly observed as he stood on the deck of his ship. He’d spent the last three nights alone in his bed, unable to sleep and barely able to eat. Never had a woman had this profound of an effect upon him. Never had he cared for a woman as much as Marlee. To even think he might be in love with her was a thought he couldn’t dwell upon. He hadn’t loved Bettina, the woman his father had chosen for him. And now, he couldn’t face the reality that he might be in love with Marlee only to lose her forever.
He felt it was better for both of them if he didn’t see her too often. If he distanced himself from her, then when the time came for her to leave, he’d be emotionally detached and would be able to put on a brave facade. Yet, God only knew how much he’d miss her and nothing could stop the pain he’d experience when she was truly gone.
Lost in his reverie, he didn’t notice Holcombe approaching with a short, overweight man beside him. “Lark,” Holcombe said, “this man has news for you about Manuel Silva.”
At the mention of the notorious pirate’s name, Lark came alert. For the first time he realized the other man’s presence and grimaced when he recognized the swarthy little creature in ill-fitting clothes with Holcombe. “Well, well, Lescale, it’s been a long time.”
“Oui, Monsieur Lark, too long.”
“The last time I saw you I think you were jumping ship in Tortuga.”
Lescale smiled sheepishly. “Oui, I apologize for leaving your ship, but there was this beautiful señorita—”
Lark held up a hand and chuckled. “Enough, don’t tell me anymore.”
“Then you don’t hold a grudge against Lescale?”
Lark sobered. “Not if the information about Manuel Silva is something of value to me.”
“Oui, I understand. I’ve heard you’ve offered three hundred pounds for this information.”
“Only if it turns out to be correct. Do you know where Silva is?”
Lescale moved closer to Lark, his tone conspiratorially low. “I saw him myself only last month, monsieur Lark. I was sailing on a ship bound for Cuba when out of nowhere Silva’s black crow of a ship appeared. His flag was raised to attack and he chased us, but to our good fortune, the wind was in our favor and we outran him. But at one point, we were close enough for Silva to be observed on deck. He is a vulture, Captain Lark, a dark, evil man.”
Lark knew that only too well. “Where do you think he is, Lescale?”
“There is a group of islands near Bimini. I’ve heard this is where he anchors his ship, his base when he launches an attack. And Silva doesn’t care who he attacks, monsieur, as you well know. He’s attacked ships flying the Spanish flag, he’s been known to destroy the ships of his own cronies and steal their treasure. No one and nothing is sacred to Silva. He must be destroyed.”
“Tell me,” Lark asked, his gaze riveted on Lescale, “have you heard anything about a woman he took captive some months ago?”
“Your fiancée,” Lescale said bluntly, but his face softened for a moment. “I have heard about her, and the news isn’t good, monsieur. I’m not saying the rumors are all true, but—but how can I say this to you without hurting you?”
“Go on,” Lark urged and braced himself for the worst.
Lescale sighed. “I’ve heard that the lady is dead, monsieur. I’m sorry.”
A shudder passed through Lark. He’d worried about this very thing and the responsibility for Bettina’s death rested with him. If only he’d been able to defend her. He found himself offering his hand to Lescale. “Thank you for the information. If what you’ve told me turns out to be true, then I’ll gladly pay you the three hundred pounds I’ve promised.”
“I know you will, monsi
eur, for I trust you. But Silva is a slippery fellow and could be anywhere.”
Lark realized that very well. Since his offer had been made for information, he’d been contacted by a dozen men with news about Silva, and each man had seen him in a different location. But this was the first time anyone had mentioned that Bettina was dead.
When Lescale left the ship, Holcombe, who had been nearby and heard everything, turned to Lark. “Are you still going after Silva now?”
“Yes, I have to kill the bastard. I have to know the truth.”
“Well,” Holcombe observed not unkindly, “if what Lescale told you about Lady Bettina turns out to be true, then your—relationship—with Lady Marlee could take a different turn.”
Lark nodded but didn’t respond, because he’d thought the very same thing.
~
“Lark Arden’s offered three hundred pounds for news about Manuel Silva. I’d say that’s quite a handsome sum to catch a man like Silva. Wish I knew where the culprit was. I’d like that money myself.” A tall, distinguished gentleman had just read aloud to a similarly appearing companion the parchment tacked on the door of the local grog shop.
“Arden’s daft if you ask me,” the companion observed. “No one’s been able to capture Silva, though Arden has more reason than others to try.”
The two men moved leisurely down the mud-caked street which housed the taverns as well as the only lady’s dress shop in the area. Marlee, who’d been waiting in the carriage for Beatrix to finish her purchases in the dress shop, had witnessed the entire exchange between the two men. Curiosity got the best of her and caused her to get out of the carriage under the disapproving eye of Beatrix’s driver to read the piece of parchment for herself.
It was as the gentlemen had said. Lark was offering money in exchange for information about Manuel Silva. She shivered in the afternoon heat despite the perspiration which beaded her upper lip to wonder if Lark had finally gotten what he was after. Would he soon be putting her on a ship to England while he pursued Silva? If so, she’d never see him again. She couldn’t bear the thought of that, and worst of all, she couldn’t imagine Lark not returning from his mission. What if Silva killed him this time?
No matter that he wouldn’t admit he loved her or commit himself in any way to her, she loved him and vowed to help him. But how?
“Marlee, dear, what are you doing outside of the carriage?” Beatrix scolded, her arms loaded down with brightly wrapped packages.
“Nothing but getting a breath of air. It was stuffy inside the carriage.”
“Well, you should be more careful. I shouldn’t have brought you to this part of the island. You’re so young and pretty that anything could have happened to you.” Beatrix made a move to get inside with the driver’s help when Marlee forestalled her with a hand on her arm.
“Isn’t that Sloane Mason?” Marlee asked and pointed to the man at the end of the street who’d just entered a whitewashed two-storied house with a sign that proclaimed it was the Swan Inn.
“What?” Beatrix asked absently and then looked to where Marlee pointed. “Yes, I believe that’s him.”
“Does he live there?” Marlee asked and settled herself comfortably in the upholstered seat by arranging the flowing skirt of her white calico gown.
“Yes, when he isn’t off doing God only knows what on that ship of his. Sloane is a wastrel and a ne’er-do-well, and you’d do yourself a favor by staying away from him.”
“I got the impression that Governor Rogers liked him,” Marlee observed.
“Woodes tolerates him, that’s all,” Beatrix said through compressed lips. “Sloane happens to be a good source of information about what’s happening on the island and the vicinity, at least Woodes thinks so.”
“Then the governor trusts him?”
Beatrix’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, to a point, but I don’t. He’ll do anything for the right price. Marlee, I’m warning you about Sloane Mason, too. Stay away from him. He’s more dangerous than Lark Arden.” She fanned herself with a delicately painted fan. “I shall be so grateful, my dear, when you’re safely in England. Chaperoning such a young and pretty woman is quite draining. I think the best decision Lark Arden has ever made is to send you back to England.”
Marlee hid a secret smile. Now that she knew about Sloane Mason, she wouldn’t be returning to England after all.
~
Upon their return to the house, Governor Rogers called her into the study where she found Lark. Her delight at seeing him was tempered by his introduction of another man with him. “This is Captain Neils Lundstrum,” Lark introduced Marlee to the gray-haired sea captain with twinkling blue eyes. “Captain Lundstrum is setting sail for England day after tomorrow. I’ve arranged your passage with him, and I know that you’ll be quite safe with him.”
“As safe as I was with you?” she bit out before thinking and then blushed. She extended her hand graciously to Lundstrum. “I’m pleased to meet you, sir.”
“The pleasure is mine, Lady Arden.” Lundstrum smiled at her and kissed her hand. “My little ship is graced by your presence. I look forward to having you aboard.”
“How kind of you to say that,” she responded to his compliment but she had no intention of being on board a ship day after tomorrow—at least not Lundstrum’s ship. A moment of panic seized her but she brought it under swift control. If what she planned to do was destined to succeed, then she had to speak to Sloane Mason right away.
When Rogers and Lundstrum became engaged in a lively discussion, Lark motioned Marlee outside. “Let’s walk,” he said, and Marlee noticed his expression was gravely serious. She swallowed hard. This was the moment she’d been dreading. This was the moment of farewell, she could feel it.
They walked the sandy beach with bare feet, a gentle warm breeze at their backs. Not once did Lark reach out to take her hand, and she felt her heart was breaking. Why couldn’t he admit that he loved her? she asked herself. Why must she love him so much and hope that they would have a life together once he completed his obsessive mission? And was there reason for such hope?
Finally, Lark stopped on the beach and gazed out at the sun-kissed horizon that stretched in azure waves before them. He turned to her. There were no dancing amber glints in his eyes today, only a profound sadness. “I’m sailing tomorrow at first light,” he told her.
She fiddled with a bow at the neckline of her gown. “You’re going after Manuel Silva.”
“Yes, I think I know where to find him.”
“And when you do, what then, Lark? What about us?”
Lark sighed deeply. “There can be no us, Marlee, though I wish to God things could be different.”
“Explain to me why they can’t be,” she persisted and her voice rose a bit over the sea breezes. “You’ve never given me an adequate explanation for any of this. I understand you’re anxious to avenge what Silva did to you, but afterward you could return to me here. I’d be waiting for you. We could have a life together—we could be—married.” There she’d said it out loud for the first time. She waited with bated breath for his reaction.
Lark remained silent for a few seconds before he spoke. His dark eyes perused her face as if he’d never looked at her before. “I can’t marry you. You’re better off without me, Marlee. Once you’re in England, you’ll forget me, forget everything.”
“How am I to forget the man who took my innocence, the man whom I love? And I do love you, Lark. I know you love me, too. Why can’t you tell me you love me? Why?”
Her pleading undid him. Without realizing it, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her until his lips ached. Then he broke the kiss and looked deeply into the fathomless depths of her blue eyes. “I’ll say this only one time, Marlee, only once.” His voice sounded low and husky, almost like music to Marlee’s ears. His hands stroked her jawline and stopped at the base of her neck. “I love you. I’ve never said that to another woman but you, and no matter what happens in the future what I feel for you
will never change.”
“Oh, Lark, I love you so much,” she cried, joyful tears welling in her eyes and threatening to spill onto her cheeks. “I knew you loved me, I knew it. I won’t leave you now. I can’t.”
“But you will.”
Marlee blinked at the sudden harshness in his voice, more than dismayed to have him push her away from him. “But you just told me that you loved me—”
“And I meant it, Marlee. But if you love me, you must promise to leave New Providence and pursue your life. You must promise me that you’ll forget me. There are things in my past that don’t concern you, things you’re better off not knowing. I want your promise that you’ll leave day after tomorrow. I need to know that you’re safe and living at Arden Manor. Promise me that you’ll leave, promise me.”
“But you love me—”
“Promise me,” he ground out harshly.
She’d promise him the moon if he asked for it. Yet she didn’t understand how he could admit he loved her and send her away. Had his vengeful mission against Silva blinded him to everything that made life worthwhile? However, she could see that Lark was struggling within himself, warring with his own demons. Her promise must be made to give him some peace of mind for the moment. “I promise I’ll sail away day after tomorrow, just as you ask.”
A wrenching sigh wracked his chest. “Thank you, Marlee.”
“This is farewell then?” she asked and found her cheeks wet with tears.
Lark gently wiped a tear from her face, and she saw his own eyes were misty. “Yes, my lady. I won’t see you again.”
“Godspeed, Lark.”
Making a wide sweeping bow, Lark didn’t take his gaze from her. “You, too, my lady.” Despite their sorrow, he managed to flash her a disarming smile that sent a thrill down to Marlee’s very toes. And then Lark turned away and walked briskly down the beach. Not once did he look back. But Marlee knew he was thinking about her and wanting her as much as she wanted him.
She wiped the tears from her eyes and remembered the promise she’d made to Lark. That was a promise she intended to keep, too. She’d sail away the day after tomorrow but not on Captain Lundstrum’s ship. If ever two people deserved to be together, she and Lark were that pair. And they would be together again with the help of God—and Sloane Mason.
Pirate Hunter's Mistress (The Virginia Brides) Page 14