Chapter Five
One of the best things about bringing the Black Rose to port was the ship’s cook had ample opportunity to restock the larder. And Marco enjoyed dining on exquisite fare.
He glanced at his plate of fine porcelain, now empty after being served a thick fillet of steak and vegetables followed by a delicious baked apricot pudding.
All the years he was at sea, food was his least favorite part of it. Depending on their course heading, they sometimes spent weeks at sea and fresh food became scarce. Being in port for the last week had spoiled him with the delights of having a fresh meal served every day. Not to mention the prison food he’d recently survived on was hardly to be desired either.
Marco leaned back, patting his now full stomach and lifting his glass of wine, raising it in Arianne’s direction where she sat at the opposite end of the table. She lifted her dark lashes, gazing at him with a hunger in her brandy-colored eyes that was quite different from the one she just sated. A slight blush colored her cheeks as he caught her stare. She was a beauty, with her long chestnut colored hair curling in soft waves against the clear creamy skin of her face.
He smiled in contentment. If every evening he shared a meal with this woman, it would be more than he ever dreamed. The time they’d spent together before his capture, he realized now, had been squandered. Surely, they enjoyed each other’s company, had many adventures, but he never considered forever. In all honesty, he’d never thought to be living today. His life had been beyond hazardous.
He was a pirate.
After all the sea battles he had seen, it was a marvel he still breathed and lived without any major damage, such as missing limbs or eyes as some of his mates had suffered.
And now, to be back in the presence of this woman…
Well, Marco felt truly blessed.
Now if he could keep her at his side…
“It does me good to see you, Arianne,” Marco said, deciding to let her know all. He’d already professed his love, what else did he have to hide?
She tilted her head, opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated.
“What?”
Arianne let out a deep sigh. “I cannot tell you what it did to me…to learn you were sentenced to die and nothing could be done to free you.”
“I’m sorry for that, Love. Truly, I am.”
She shrugged her shoulders and waved a hand in the air. “Nothing for it, I guess. It’s the life of a pirate.”
“Suppose that should change?” The moment he said it, he knew the thought had been lurking in the back of his mind for a long time.
“What do you mean?” She tilted her head.
A knock on the door halted his reply. Instead, he bade Mr. Fitzwilliam enter, since he knew who it was and why he had picked that moment to interrupt.
Mr. Fitzwilliam opened the door and walked into the captain’s cabin with another man.
Angus was thinner than Marco remembered. More strands of gray peppered the hair at his temples and the weathered face that in his memory always wore a smile now appeared a bit somber. The smile remained, to be sure, but the light in the man’s eyes had faded. The years were beginning to show, as well as the hardship of the life they had chosen.
“Captain Dante, sir,” Angus said, striding forward on confidant limbs to reach a hand in greeting. Marco took the man’s hand and shook it gratefully. Two years ago, they did not part the best of friends, so he was glad Angus chose to forgive and forget.
“Angus,” Marco said, drawing the man into a quick embrace and clapping him soundly on the back. “All is well, I hope?”
“Now that you’re back on the seas again, no doubt all will be very well indeed.” Angus smiled, the gaps in his mouth revealed missing teeth. “It was a sad day when news broke of your capture, sir. Far sadder still when it was said you were sentenced to hang. My bonny lass here, cried her eyes out for you.” He nodded to where Arianne stood, awaiting her turn to greet the man who had been like a second father to her. She rushed into Angus’s open arms when Marco stepped back.
“Oh, aye?” Marco raised an eyebrow to glance at her.
She rolled her eyes. “Of course, I did. Along with every other eligible maiden, even those not so eligible, who heard tell the tales of Captain Marco Dante and his battle for freedom from English tyranny on the seven seas. You make a popular hero, Marco, make no mistake.”
“I’m no hero, Love.” He shook his head in denial. “In fact, I do believe in most stories I play the villain.”
“All the more enticing, I’d say,” Angus said with a guffaw, jerking his elbow at Marco.
Again, Arianne rolled her eyes.
“We’ve a matter of business at hand, Angus, which I’d like to resolve as quickly as possible. Arianne tells me she entrusted a certain item of mine to your possession for protection. I’d like it back.”
“The ring, Angus. He wants the ring.”
“Of course,” Angus said with a grin. “I knew Arianne said to put it someplace safe, where even she could never find it, but a thing like that should never be left unguarded. And I hoped one of you would come to me one day, asking for its return.”
“You have it still?”
“Yes.” He nodded.
“Where is it?”
“Barbados.”
Chapter Six
It had only been a week since Arianne was forced to leave her home on Barbados. Now that she was back, her body eased with relief. She was nearly home.
Home to Maria and Bess.
When she left, the port was aflame with the fire of a pirate attack…Marco’s attack. And though she was certain both Maria and Bess were far enough from the harbor to be safe, she needed to see them with her own eyes to be sure.
She and Marco followed Angus through the streets of Bridgetown as he led them to the spot where he hid the ring.
“It’s not far now,” Angus said.
To her great relief, they neared the center of town, with each step growing closer to her home. As soon as they recovered the ring for Marco, she’d say farewell and run to Bess.
Arianne glanced at Marco.
Could she say farewell to him? She’d never had the chance to say it before his capture. She’d never told him how she felt about him, and then when she wanted to, it was too late.
She thought of her life now, the life she carved for herself during his absence.
A life without pirates, though not without adventure. It was a new life, a new adventure.
Dare she ask Marco to share it with her?
During the years she knew him, adventure was like an aphrodisiac to Marco. He loved it, craved it, needed it to feel alive and free. He and her father had great adventures upon his ship at sea, battling the English, French and Spanish.
After her father had been killed, Marco took Arianne under his flag of protection, keeping her safe from those who might wish her harm. Together, they continued her father’s journey.
Arianne had fallen in love with Marco within the first week of her acquaintance with him. He was dashing, daring, exciting. He thrilled her blood and left her heart pounding. But he also had a gentler side which he allowed only few to see. He was compassionate, caring, considerate.
Arianne had loved him for so long. How could she bear to be apart from him again?
But what would he do when he learned the truth of what she had been doing while he was in prison? What would he do when he learned what she had become?
She bit her lip as she considered the possibilities.
Could she take that chance with her heart? Could she risk his anger, his revulsion, if she told him the truth? Would he still want her? Could he still love her as he proclaimed?
Was he capable of loving her?
She knew he loved her. In his own way. But did he love her enough to forgive her deception?
Arianne worried her lip as she stared at the back of his head while she trailed behind him. She was so focused on her thoughts and fears she did not realize unti
l they came to a stop in front of a door that Angus had led them directly to the house where she lived with Maria and Bess.
“Angus.” She grabbed his arm and turned him to face her. “What are you doing?”
The man smiled. “I’m taking you to the ring.”
“But…?” Arianne tried to say more. Her mouth opened, but the words never came. Instead, her gaze flashed to Marco who stared at her with avid curiosity.
“Come, child,” Angus said, patting her hand on his arm. “Let us go in.”
And then he turned the handle, opened the door, and entered.
She followed close behind, searching for any sign of Maria or Bess, any evidence that might proclaim to Marco what she had become during his absence. She listened for the sounds familiar in her home, the laughter and giggles of Bess. Bess had a loud and sweet laugh, the most infectious kind. But all Arianne heard was the pounding of her heart.
“Where is it?” Marco asked, glancing between her and Angus.
Did he know? Did he suspect?
No, he couldn’t. Not unless… Had Angus revealed the truth? The panic nearly left her gasping, but she controlled it, leaning against the wall for support as her legs grew weak.
No, he didn’t. Marco would have said something. Surely, he would have said something.
“Upstairs,” Angus answered Marco.
And then upstairs they went, treading heavily on the steps. The wooden slats creaked with the weight of the men as they walked ahead of her.
Where were they? Surely Maria would hear the intruders in her home. Why wasn’t she confronting them? Or was she already running? Had she heard them and run for help? Where was she?
Angus stopped in front of a closed door. He reached for the doorknob, then paused and looked back, the sadness in his eyes reaching to her heart.
“It’s for the best.” Angus’s voice was soft, meant only for her ears although she knew Marco heard.
She forced her gaze down and nodded. She understood Angus had little choice. The same amount allotted to her. And she did not want to see Marco’s face when he learned the truth.
Angus opened the door.
They walked into a small room. The mattress filled with straw sat on the bare wooden floor in one corner, a delicately quilted blanket placed lovingly over it. An ornately carved armoire took up the space of another corner, massive and barbaric in the simple room. The only other furniture was a table with a mirror propped on it, since they had no nails to hang it, and a plain wooden cradle.
Angus walked to the armoire made from walnut with carved roses and vines decorating the frieze. A gift to her mother from her father when they were wed. Angus opened the door, pulled one of the sixteen drawers near the top and reached into the back.
Arianne heard a click. A moment later, Angus stepped away from the armoire, his hand closed into a fist which he extended to Marco.
Marco said nothing as he stepped toward Angus, holding out his hand.
Angus dropped a ring onto Marco’s palm.
A large signet ring, designed for a man’s hand, the gold curving ornately around the shape of his family crest.
Marco sighed. His shoulders sagged in relief as he held the ring, gently turning it in his fingers.
“It was with you all the time.”
“I had no idea,” Arianne said, glancing at Angus for some manner of explanation.
The man shrugged. “When you asked me to hide it, I could think of only one place where it would be truly safe. Your father showed me the compartment hidden in the back of the armoire he had commissioned for your mother. He used it to hide valuables during the crossing from England to the Colonies. After your mother died, he sold the jewels to pay for his ship and crew. He gave you the armoire. And I knew you’d never rid yourself of it.”
“Never,” she said in agreement. “It’s a piece of my parents, a physical symbol of the love they shared.”
“As I’ve said before, I’d hoped Marco would find a way to return to us. Knowing he’d want the ring back, as well as these papers from his father, I hid them where they would remain safe and under guard at all times.”
Angus reached back into the armoire to retrieve a small stack of papers tied together with a string. He handed them to Marco, and then smiled pleased with himself as he folded his arms across his massive chest.
“You protected it,” Marco said, staring at the ring in one hand, the papers in the other. “You kept it safe.”
“I didn’t know.” Arianne protested when she heard the tenderness in his voice. Although she was happy to see the ring restored to its master, she did not want him to thank her. If she had known it was with her, in the very room she slept each night, she would have taken it from the armoire and thrown it into the ocean where it belonged.
His property was dangerous.
To her.
To Bess.
Marco turned to face her, a smile curving his lips. “All the same, you did. The last piece of my father, and you kept it safe…”
His gaze fixed on an item behind her. Arianne watched the smile fade. A cold shiver ran through her shoulders.
He saw.
He knew.
But she glanced behind her anyway, to see what had struck him silent.
The cradle.
She should have sold it. Dismantled it. Burned it. This moment of discovery might never have happened if she’d only been rid of the thing.
Arianne looked back at Marco. His gaze lifted to lock with her eyes, the question unspoken but clearly understood.
Angus clapped his hands together, the sound startling her so that she jumped.
“I believe I’ll go see what Maria has for supper,” he said. “Maria’s a fine lass that helps out with the cooking and cleaning. And prison fare leaves much to be desired for a man of my stature and girth.”
He sent her an encouraging smile as he passed them both, closing the door behind so they were left alone.
“This is your room.” Marco nodded toward the armoire and the mattress on the floor. Then he waved a hand toward the cradle. “Is that yours too?”
“Yes.” She lifted her head to face him fully. “As is the child it contains at night.”
Marco stepped back, as if she’d slapped him. She forced her body to stay still when all she wanted was to go to him, wrap her arms around him and tell him everything. She loved him. He deserved to know. But her child’s safety was utmost in her mind. Marco brought danger to them. Danger Arianne feared she could not defeat to keep her child safe.
“Why did you not tell me?”
Arianne’s tears welled at the sound of devastation in his voice. The torment. Unbearable anguish. She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head away for good measure because she could not bear to look at him.
How much has he already suffered and I bring him more pain?
Arianne choked, but knew she must answer.
“I feared…” She hesitated wondering how to explain. Where to begin?
“Feared what? Me?” Marco forced a harsh laugh. “Who is he?”
Arianne’s eyes flashed open, confused at the change of subject.
“Who is he?” What was he talking about now? Didn’t he know? Didn’t he understand?
“The father.” He spoke the words through clenched teeth. “Who is the father of your baby, Arianne?”
Chapter Seven
Several names rattled through his brain as Marco attempted to absorb the shock of this news. A baby? Arianne had given birth to a child.
And Marco hadn’t known. He’d suffered in prison, thinking of her, yearning to be with her, loving her from afar while she was loving someone else.
A face appeared in his mind. A boy to Marco, but a man to Arianne. They were close in age, after all. And often together aboard ship. Always plotting and conspiring, playing tricks on the crew, teasing laughter and smiles from his men. A boy with blonde hair, blue eyes and the most charming smile a girl had ever seen. Including Arianne.
&
nbsp; Young Will.
Yes, it made sense that he be the father. They spent much time together after Marco was taken prisoner too, hadn’t they? They worked together to find a way to free Marco. Or was that a lie? Did she lie about trying to free him from his Hell?
No, he believed her. Young Will and Arianne had both been devoted to him. They would have tried to find any way to free him. And when their attempts failed? Did she find comfort in the lad’s arms? Did Will ease her worries and fears? Did he call out her name as he thrust inside her?
Marco growled, stepping back again.
No, he would stop that line of thought directly. He could not bring himself to imagine Arianne with another man. He couldn’t bear it, even though he understood she was a woman, a beautiful, passionate woman with a woman’s needs. And Marco could hardly satisfy those needs while he was being starved and beaten thousands of miles away.
“Marco?” Arianne said, drawing him out of his dark thoughts. “How…”
“Never mind, my love,” Marco said, stopping her explanation. He set his precious papers on the table near them, but kept the ring tight in his palm. “I understand. It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? I should have known all along.”
“What?”
“Young Will.” Marco remembered her speaking of their time during the search for a way to free their stolen captain. He recalled the pain in her face when she told him of Will’s death. How she didn’t wish to speak of it.
“Will?” Arianne said, aghast. A look of horror flashed over her face, making Marco reconsider his theory. “You think I… And Will…”
“Did you not?”
“No!” She spoke the word with vehemence. Her face grew flushed with embarrassment or anger, it was difficult for Marco to decipher. “Will was like a brother to me. Nothing more.”
“Never?”
She shook her head.
“Then who?”
Before she could speak the door creaked open, revealing a tall man with short black hair and dressed in dark garb, a sword strapped to his belt and a primed pistol in one hand. Recognition slammed into Marco with such force he nearly took a step back. Nearly. He couldn’t show weakness. Not to this man.
The Pirate's Lady Page 4