Pirate Hunter's Mistress (The Virginia Brides)

by Vinet, Lynette

  “I’m certain you did very well without me,” Lark said and acknowledged young Carson before the man went to join the other officers.

  “Well, I feel hurt just the same. Mother and Father have gone to such trouble and expense for this party.”

  “And a lovely party it is, too,” Lark agreed politely but appeared uncomfortable with Bettina’s clutching fingers digging into the material of his jacket.

  Bettina narrowed her eyes at Marlee and asked her, “Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Arden? You seem to have lost the color in your cheeks. Are you well?”

  “The party is wonderful and I’m quite well,” Marlee assured with a false smile. She didn’t feel well, not well at all with Bettina pawing Lark. What was wrong with the woman? Why was she so blatantly showy when she knew Lark wasn’t going to marry her? Was it only for appearances’ sake?

  “I’m so glad. I shouldn’t like you to become ill.” Bettina dismissed Marlee with a less than concerned smile as people came over to greet Lark. Marlee found herself pushed aside by the crowd, almost buried in a corner behind a potted palm, as pleasantries were exchanged. More than once she heard Bettina’s shrill voice introducing Lark as her “fiancé.” She gritted her teeth to keep from screaming. Why would Bettina keep referring to him in that fashion? Why did she suddenly feel so sick to her stomach when Lord Gilbert, flanked by his wife, daughter, and Lark, lifted his glass high in the air.

  “A toast to my Bettina and Lark Arden,” Gilbert proclaimed in a loud, proud voice. “May the course of their lives run smoothly. And may God grant them children who are as beautiful as my daughter and as intelligent as her future husband.” Everyone clapped politely and toasted the couple. Gilbert’s voice rang out again. “All of you are invited to the wedding in a week’s time!”

  A week’s time? Marlee heard this news as in a dream, and she noticed that Bettina took the congratulations from the guests in good stride. She didn’t look the least bit disturbed, as would a woman who knew she wasn’t going to be married. Either Bettina was a good actress or there really was going to be a wedding! Marlee glanced at Lark for confirmation that this was all a mistake. But he only shook the hands of the people that surrounded him, totally oblivious to Marlee’s shocked expression.

  This was more than Marlee could bear. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she fled the ballroom, nearly bumping into the stalwart chest of Alastair Caine. Something indefinably sad in his face told her that he was less than thrilled with this announcement—that his pain was as great as hers.

  Lifting her skirts, Marlee ran outside onto the beach. She ran until her legs ached and she couldn’t take another step. Stopping, she tried to catch her breath but the sobs choked her until she wanted to retch. It was only when she glanced around did she realize that she’d stopped at the spot where Lark had made love to her. Groaning her agony, she slipped to the ground.

  Lark had lied to her again! All of the things he’d told her were lies. Lark never intended to marry her, he hadn’t broken off with Bettina. No wonder Bettina had gone about as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Lark hadn’t broken the engagement, otherwise, Bettina wouldn’t have allowed her parents to plan a wedding when there wasn’t going to be a groom. And there wasn’t anything wrong with Lord Gilbert’s health as Lark had told her. Lark had lied to her about that, too!

  When would she ever learn?

  Wiping away her tears with her fists, Marlee took deep gulps of air into her lungs. She refused to cry anymore—so tired of shedding tears that her eyes burned and were probably so puffy she looked a mess. And all because she happened to love a rogue like Lark.

  “Marlee! Marlee, are you here?”

  Lark’s frantic cries sounded from the pathway and intruded into her misery. At first, she refused to answer him, cowering behind an oleander hedge like a frightened rabbit that had been hunted by a ferocious dog until it was trembling and weak with fear, and now only waited for the kill. She didn’t want to speak to him or see him again. But she hated acting like a coward—she was no fearful, little animal. Sooner or later, she’d be forced to confront the bounder and now was as good a time as any other. But what did he want with her? Hadn’t he hurt her enough?

  Rising to her feet a bit unsteadily, she straightened the bodice of her gown and shook the skirt free of sand. All the while he was coming closer and calling for her. “I’m over here!” she peevishly snapped.

  Moonlight streamed over him when he came into view. There was something frantic in his movements at first, but a great wave of relief rushed over his countenance when he saw her. “You gave me a start, running out of the house like that, darling. What happened?”

  She blinked in utter bafflement at Lark’s inane question. Was he daft as well as treacherous? “How dare you come after me like this and insult me with your stupid question. I’d almost believe you loved me if I didn’t know any better.”

  “What are you talking about?” His face darkened at the bitter tone in her voice. “You know that I love you.”

  “Oh, yes, I know how much that is. A tumble in the sand every night is love to you. Deception is love to you. Sweet lies are love—to—you.” Despite her resolve not to cry, her sobs choked her words.

  Instantly he was near and holding her in his arms. “Don’t touch me!” She pushed at him with all of her strength, but she wasn’t a match for Lark. All of the fight went out of her. She fell limp against him like a doll whose sawdust stuffing was draining away.

  His embrace tormented her. Hot, anguished tears slipped down her cheeks. She heard his voice, soft as silk, caressing her in the darkness. “Marlee, look at me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or continue crying. Was Lark so dense that he didn’t realize what he’d done to her, or didn’t he care? She stared up at him in haughty disdain. “I think you should go back to your fiancée,” she coldly said. “I’m certain you must have a great many things to do since your wedding is only a week away. Please don’t allow me to keep you.”

  “Marlee, stop this nonsense. You know there isn’t going to be a wedding. How many times must I tell you?”

  “Until I believe it!” she blurted out.

  “Is that what this is about? You don’t believe I’ve broken with Bettina.”

  “Exactly, my lord. I don’t believe one damn thing you’ve told me. And neither does Bettina. If you’d broken off with her, then why is she still planning a wedding? Why is she acting as your fiancée? That party tonight wasn’t just a welcome-home party, Lark, it was an engagement party, too.”

  “I didn’t know about that. I was caught off guard, in fact I didn’t know that the wedding was planned for next week. That news took me by surprise.”

  She didn’t believe him. “Of course it did, Lark. After all, the groom is always the last to know these things. I’d wager the news didn’t come as a surprise to Bettina.”

  “Bettina knows I’m going to tell her father tomorrow. I was waiting until after the party because of his health. Really, Marlee, I didn’t realize the wedding plans had progressed this far so fast.” Such honesty was reflected in his voice and on his face that Marlee nearly believed him, but she knew he was lying. Lord Gilbert was in perfect health.

  “I happen to know that Bettina’s father isn’t sick. He told me tonight that there’s not a thing wrong with him, he’s in good spirits and good health. Either you’re a liar, Lark, or you’ve been royally duped.”

  Lark’s face turned an ashen color. “The little bitch lied to me! She played me for a fool.”

  “Then you know how horrible it feels.”

  He loosened his grip on her waist, allowing her the freedom to push away, if she wished. “I haven’t lied to you,” he insisted in all sincerity. “What’s happened here is that Bettina intends to force the marriage, believing that I won’t back out because of the love I bear for my father. But I will speak to Lord Gilbert—I’ll speak to him tonight.”

  Marlee’s head swam. Could
she believe Lark? Had he been telling her the truth all along? She didn’t know what to believe.

  Very gently, he tilted her chin upward and gazed lovingly down at her. No matter what she thought in her confusion, Lark’s eyes spoke of love. “If we’re going to have any sort of a life together,” he said lowly, “then you’re going to have to trust me. You must trust me. Allow me to prove myself to you. Come back to the house with me and pack your things. Tonight, you’ll stay on the ship with me for I doubt you’ll be welcome after I tell Lord Gilbert that you’re the woman I’m going to marry.”

  “Oh—Lark.” She bit down on her lower lip in indecision.

  He flashed her a grin that was dazzling in his tanned face. “You have nothing to lose, my love, but the world to gain by placing your trust in me. More than anything in the universe, I want to win your trust, Marlee.”

  Was she a fool for wanting this, too? Should she give him this one last chance to prove himself? It was almost ironic, she thought, that to win her trust Lark must throw away his honor by refusing to wed Bettina. “Will you trust me?” he asked, and his voice trembled, almost as if he counted upon her answer.

  She sighed heavily and leaned into him. She very nearly smiled at the anxiety she saw on his face. “I trust you, Lark.” And the second she murmured the words, she knew that she did.

  ~

  “Sir, I’m sorry to drag you away from your guests, but we must talk.” Lark waited solemnly in the center of Gilbert’s study while the man offered him a freshly rolled cheroot, which Lark refused.

  “Yes, yes, lad,” Gilbert amiably agreed. “It’s always good for the bride’s father to have a talk with the groom. You know, to arrange for the dowry. And I’ll be very generous, I can assure you.”

  “I’m not here about the dowry, sir.”

  Lord Gilbert puffed on his cheroot and smiled knowingly. “Ah, you’re worried about being a good husband to my little girl. I know you’ll do fine, son. Your father was my best friend—a most honorable man. You’re just like him.”

  “No, sir, I’m afraid that I’m not,” Lark retorted and was immediately sorry for sounding harshly abrupt. He softened his tone of voice. “I always tried to do as Father wished, and he wished that I marry Bettina. But unforeseen circumstances prevented that.”

  “I know, I know, lad. But that’s all past now. Don’t worry about any of it. Just be happy and take care of my daughter.”

  “I sailed after her and rescued her—it was my duty to find her. You understand that I had to find her, sir.”

  Gilbert smiled warily. “Yes, and my wife and I are forever grateful.”

  “I’m glad to hear of your gratitude, sir, because I’ve come to tell you that I’m not marrying Bettina. I told her this already, but she told me that you were ill and I didn’t want to distress you with this news—”

  “What did you say!” Gilbert stopped puffing on the cheroot and held it in midair. His face was the same red color as the lighted tip. “You better be joking, boy!”

  “I’m not joking, and I’m a man, not a boy or a lad.” The lines in Lark’s forehead deepened into furrows. “My father wished this marriage, I agreed only to please him and intended to marry Bettina. But I don’t love her.”

  “Love? What a bunch of nonsense! No one loves their future spouse before the wedding. Love comes with time,” insisted Gilbert.

  “Even in fifty years’ time, sir, I regret to say that I’ll never love Bettina. She deserves a man who shall cherish her and love her. Unfortunately, I won’t.”

  Lark’s honesty left Lord Gilbert agog. The older man’s jaw dropped open in mute surprise. He shook his head in what could only be disbelief. “How dare you not want my daughter! Your nerve is surpassed only by your lack of honor.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” admitted Lark with a grim face, “but what good is honor that forces two people to live unhappily for the rest of their lives? I’m not going to spend my life with a woman whom I never shall love.”

  “You’re turning Bettina down because of that blasted pirate!”

  “No, sir. I don’t love her.”

  “Damn you, Arden, for your lack of honor toward my daughter, for my family. Your father must be rolling over in his grave. Now he was an honorable man.”

  “I agree with you. He was, and in my own way so am I. If I possessed no honor, I’d marry Bettina and subject her to an unhappy life as my wife. With your permission, Lord Gilbert, I would appreciate being released from the betrothal agreement.”

  “Hellfire and damnation! I won’t release you,” blustered Gilbert whose face was now so red that it looked ready to burst. “I know why you won’t marry Bettina. You’ve got an itch for another woman. Tell me that I’m wrong.”

  “You’re not wrong. I’m going to marry Lady Arden whether you release me from the agreement or not.”

  “Despicable cad! I won’t release you. You’ll marry my girl in one week’s time—you owe her that much. Because of you, my innocent child was kidnapped by that accursed pirate.”

  “And because of me, she was returned to you. Don’t forget I was the one who brought her back.” Lark didn’t mention that Bettina was no innocent to her father. The man should be allowed to retain some illusions about his daughter. “If you loved Bettina as much as you say, then you’d do well by releasing me from the agreement. Either way, whether you formally do it or I refuse to marry her, there won’t be a wedding next week.”

  “Then you tell her that to her face!” demanded Gilbert and he rushed to open the study door.

  “Bettina knows I don’t want to marry her. I’ve told her.”

  “Tell her again!” Gilbert cried, losing control in the wake of Lark’s calm, earnest demeanor. He rushed into the foyer and bellowed for Bettina above the music coming from the ballroom. Some of the remaining guests ceased dancing and stared at the irate Lord Gilbert. “Where’s Bettina?” he shouted when it was apparent that she wasn’t mingling with the guests. Lady Olivia dashed over to her husband in alarm.

  “Cyril, Bettina is upstairs changing her gown. She spilled champagne upon it. What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Pointing to Lark, he hissed under his breath, “The cad refuses to marry our girl.”

  “Oh, my!” Lady Olivia’s exclamation was uttered lowly. “There shall be a scandal. Bettina’s reputation shall be ruined—everyone shall believe the worst.”

  “I’m sorry, my lady, but I won’t marry Bettina when I don’t love her.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize—perhaps it would be better if the wedding is called off.”

  “Olivia! How can you say such a thing!” Cyril Gilbert was outraged.

  “Love is important. I thought Lark loved Bettina, but if not, then he shouldn’t marry her and make her life miserable.”

  “Well, he will find her and tell her to her face why not, and I shall be there when he breaks her heart. And I shall call him out afterward,” declared Gilbert who even now was moving toward the staircase.

  “I won’t duel with you, sir.” Lark followed behind him. “You’re making all of this quite difficult.”

  Gilbert huffed and puffed his way up the stairs, his rage blinding him to reality and what was best for his daughter. He thought that Bettina loved Lark, that she was pure and innocent. Since the day she was born, he’d doted upon her, and as she grew up, he believed anything she told him. He believed her when she’d told him that Manuel Silva hadn’t molested her. If she told him that the sun rose in the west, he wouldn’t doubt her.

  On the second-floor landing, they ran into Marlee. Her worried expression was met by a hostile glare from Gilbert and a half smile from Lark.

  Without stopping, the two men headed down the hallway to Bettina’s bedroom.

  “Now you shall tell my daughter to her face with me as witness that you won’t marry her, Lark Arden.” So angered was Gilbert that he did something he’d never done before. He entered his daughter’s bedroom without knocking. And was so horrified by what he s
aw that he vowed that for the rest of his life, he’d never lose his temper again.

  “Bettina! Alastair!” The names were ripped from Gilbert’s throat in absolute agony. He stood frozen in the doorway and watched as his daughter and her cousin jumped from the bed as naked as the day they were born. From the disheveled looks of them and the rumpled sheets, he’d arrived too late. Or was he years too late?

  Alastair gallantly took a sheet from the bed and wrapped it around Bettina while he wound a coverlet around his waist. Calmly, he surveyed the two men who watched them, but Bettina was clearly flustered and broke out in a gale of tears. “Father, Father—don’t hate—me—”

  “Get dressed! I want to see the both of you downstairs immediately.” Lord Gilbert slammed the door closed behind him and took deep drafts of air. He was dazed by what he’d just witnessed and so distressed that Lark worried the man might fall ill.

  “Are you all right, Lord Gilbert?” Lark inquired and was joined by Marlee.

  Focusing his gaze on them, Gilbert nodded and it was some seconds before he found the power to speak. “There will be—a wedding—next week but Bettina won’t be marrying you, Lark. I release you from the betrothal agreement. Go on, take Lady Arden with you, marry her. I wish you both a happy life.”

  Lark extended his hand to Gilbert who took it as in a trance. “Thank you, my lord.”

  Marlee smiled gratefully but Lord Gilbert didn’t notice. She and Lark left the man, waiting outside of Bettina’s door. They left the Gilbert home and when they were a good distance down the beach, Lark lifted her from her feet and twirled her around and around. The only sounds that could be distinguished under the star-filled sky were the pounding waves and their delighted laughter.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Marlee snuggled against Lark’s warm body and sighed contentedly. She hated to wake up. Nothing was more wonderful than to sleep in Lark’s embrace, to feel his arms around her, pulling her close against him. And soon they’d be sailing to Virginia where they’d be married. For the rest of her life, Lark would hold her in his arms each night, and nothing would separate them again.