The Pirate and the Puritan

by Howe, Cheryl

  “Of course not. But you seem to have won her over. Some women enjoy being brutalized. Perhaps we should arrange a display with the soldiers to see if my theory holds true.” The Duke of Foxmoor clasped his hands behind his back and smiled pleasantly.

  Felicity’s father nudged her behind him. She watched over his shoulder but remained silent. Despite his chains and being out numbered twenty to one, Drew’s thinly veiled fury would surely erupt if anyone laid a hand on her. But the duke probably counted on that. She wasn’t prepared to watch Drew die. As long as she drew breath, that time would never come.

  Admiral Meldrick cleared his throat “I don’t think we need to threaten Mistress—”

  “Shut up. I’m in charge here,” interrupted the duke.

  Drew lowered his gaze and hung his head. The display confirmed her fears concerning the Duke of Foxmoor’s power. She didn’t think his threat idle, and by his submission, neither did Drew.

  “Now that we all understand each other, you may show the prisoner his cell. I want his written confession by dusk.” The duke waved a lace handkerchief in the air as if he were swatting flies, dismissing everyone.

  Meldrick shoved Drew in the direction of the gaol. He didn’t look up again. The duke disappeared into his carriage as Drew descended into the darkness.

  With an arm around her shoulders, her father guided her away from the prison. “What shall we do?”

  “Get him out, of course, but first I need to enlist someone’s help.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  When the feint glow from a torch reached the dirt floor of his cell, Drew didn’t glance up to see who approached. He’d stopped reacting, stopped thinking, stopped eating and stopped sleeping. Though the hour hovered between dusk and dawn, he felt no compulsion to close his eyes.

  After he’d given his statement, denying any relation to the Duke of Foxmoor and his family, Drew as he knew himself stopped existing. His father was no doubt celebrating in his heavenly mansion. Drew would have laughed if he still had the will. Funny that he would think that his father went to heaven, and funnier still that Drew had experienced the news of his passing as an unexpected blow.

  To his utter surprise, Drew wasn’t any wiser than his mother. Tucked away in a place he hadn’t known existed had been an ember of hope that he’d someday know the man whose likeness he bore. Drew should thank his brother for snuffing that useless spark completely, along with every other hope he’d been foolish enough to have.

  Once he’d confessed to all the crimes attributed to El Diablo—even the ones he hadn’t committed—and exonerated Felicity and Ben of any association to his evil deeds, his life had no other purpose. His death would provide those he cared about with release from their associations with him.

  “Be as quiet as possible. I’ll be back for you in an hour. Are you sure you want me to lock you in the cell with him?” said a voice Drew didn’t recognize or have any interest in.

  “I’ll be perfectly safe, but I don’t want you to get into trouble. I can find my own way out. If you leave me the key, you won’t have to come back.”

  Drew jerked up his head at the sound of the voice that rang in his nightmares. In every horrid dream, she told him to go when all he wanted to do was stay in her arms forever. But this was no dream; it was worse.

  An adolescent soldier in a red coat shook his head at Felicity. “No, ma’am. I’ll be more than in trouble if you let your husband go. I told you I felt bad watching you cry after you visited your pa, but I’m not ready to die because you’re being mistreated.”

  She touched the arm of the young man opening the cell door. “Thank you for helping me. I promise no one will know I was here.”

  Drew stood. The easy exchange between them made him furious. He had no idea he could still feel anything so strong.

  He moved toward her before he remembered he was chained to the wall. The soldier’s eyes widened when Drew accidentally rattled his bonds. The young man unlocked the cell door and ushered Felicity inside while keeping the metal grate between them. After the cell was securely locked once again, the soldier hurried away, taking the light with him.

  Felicity stayed in the shadows, just outside his reach. He didn’t realize he’d said her name until she rushed to him.

  “I’m here.” She touched his face and rubbed her thumb over his mouth. “Have they hurt you?”

  He parted his lips, brushing her thumb with his tongue. She tasted warm and clean. He raised his arms to wrap them around her, wanting her molded against him. The chain binding his hands to his feet stopped him. The reminder brought him instantly to his senses.

  He jerked his head away from her touch. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

  She let her hands drop to her sides. “I don’t blame you for being angry—”

  “Answer my question. Your British friends have already gotten my confession. What else do they want?”

  She winced at his accusation. “I talked that young soldier into letting me see you. I told him we were married and we had to keep it a secret.”

  He balled his hands into fists. She was determined to ruin the one good thing he’d ever done in his life.

  “Are you crazy, or just that damned vindictive? I told them you and your father weren’t involved, and now you go and tell them we’re married? Christ!”

  “He won’t tell anyone. I had to see you.”

  “What did you do to gain such undying devotion? Threaten him with a pistol, perhaps?”

  She tried to touch him. “Please. Just listen to me.”

  He jerked away, but the shackles that bit into his skin reminded him that his options for movement were limited. Feigned detachment provided his only means of escape, a talent he’d all but lost since meeting Felicity. He leaned against the wall he was bound to, hating her seeing him chained like an animal.

  “Why? So you can gloat?”

  “I didn’t try to shoot you. I swear. I shot the marksman behind you. That’s why the British wanted to hang me as your accomplice.”

  “It doesn’t matter now.” Oh, but it did. She hadn’t tried to kill him. She had saved him. The idea might make him think he had something to live for. He had to do everything he could to keep the dangerous thought at bay. “Get out. I don’t want you here.”

  She inched toward him. “I can’t leave. I’m locked in until the soldier comes back. I came here to tell you something, and I won’t leave until I do.”

  “So tell me.”

  She moved a little closer. In the dim light that drifted from the night sky outside the stone jail, she met his hard glare with pleading in her soft brown eyes. “I love you.”

  He tried to shut out the sincerity in her wet gaze by closing his eyes. In spite of his efforts, warmth spread through his chest. It was happening. He wanted to live. “Felicity…don’t.”

  When he felt her lean against him, he opened his eyes. Her hands rested on his shoulders, then she kissed his cheek. He meant to tell her to stop, but his words came out as a moan. She found his mouth with her own. The soft brush of her tentative kiss broke his restraint. He took her with his tongue as he longed to do with his body.

  He pulled his mouth away from the intoxicating pleasure to kiss the vulnerable skin under her jaw. “I’ve missed you.”

  Her hips were within his restricted grasp. He pulled her roughly to him and pressed himself into her lush contours. The sensation teased. He had to have more. “I want you.”

  She responded to his abandon with her own urgency. She unlaced the top of his shirt and slid her fingers over his skin. “You don’t know how many times I dreamed of touching you again.”

  He grabbed the material of her skirt and balled handfuls of the cloth in his fist until he had it raised enough to caress her bare thigh. She yanked her skirts higher, holding them so he could touch her with both his hands. He cupped her round bottom and bent his knees, rocking against the apex of her thighs in sweet torture. Her welcoming heat radiated through his cloth
es. It was his last coherent thought.

  In one swift motion, he lifted her and swung her until her back rested against the stone wall. The part of his mind he was no longer in control over straddled the thick chain anchoring him to the wall, while maintaining his balance with his limited movements. He held her against the wall with his weight and attacked the tie on his breeches.

  The restraints on his wrists and ankles were no match for his blind lust. He slid his forearms under her thighs, spreading and supporting her. He bent his knees and surged into her. She arched against him, and he covered her gasp of surprise at his rough entry with an equally penetrating kiss. He withdrew and thrust again.

  She pulled her mouth away. “I love you.”

  “Say it again,” he said as he thrust harder.

  She repeated the words he’d never thought to hear from her. He buried himself inside her. A wave of pleasure too strong to fight broke over him. His fierce release almost drove him to his knees. After catching his breath, he collapsed against her, then showered soft kisses over her face, half in apology for his loss of control and half just to ensure himself she wasn’t a dream. He tasted the salt of her silent tears.

  “Have I hurt you?” He eased his hold and let her feet slide to the floor. Even in the semidarkness, the impression of the chain attached to his wrist was visible on the inside of her thigh.

  She followed his gaze. “It doesn’t matter. That’s not why I’m crying.”

  He moved his hands away from her. Her skirts fell over the welts, and he kissed the top of her head instead of kissing the marks he’d left on her skin. That, he didn’t trust himself to do. He had treated her like a whore, without the least care for her feelings.

  “Why are you crying, then?” His voice sounded too harsh even to his own ears.

  She laughed softly, breathlessly. “Because I thought I would never get to touch you like that again.”

  “I think I did most of the touching and the taking.”

  “But I loved every minute of it. I love everything about you.”

  He pulled away from her and began awkwardly trying to tie the cords of his breeches. The chains made the job he had accomplished when driven by blind lust seem a feat of magic. “Not everything.”

  She brushed his hands aside and finished fastening his breeches. “Everything might be an exaggeration.” She moved her hands to his chest and looked up into his face. “But I won’t doubt you again. I swear.”

  He studied her trusting, upturned face and realized the enormity of his mistake. He would give her the world if he had it, but the only thing he could give her would hurt her. Unfortunately for both of them, his death was the one thing that could save her.

  “My execution will keep you from being disappointed, because deception is the only thing I’ve ever excelled at.”

  She balled the front of his shirt in her fists. “I won’t let that happen. I’m already planning to get you out of here. All I need from you is to tell me how I can find Solomon.”

  He wrapped his fingers around her arms and set her away from him as far as he could. He pushed until the metal cut his skin. “I don’t want you to do anything. Do you understand?”

  She shook her head, trying to touch his face. He stopped her by shoving her with enough force to cause her to stumble. It was all clear to him now. He wasn’t making a noble sacrifice by giving up his life. He was being a coward.

  Yet, wasn’t it better to be a coward if it saved one’s life—or, in this case, the life of someone who meant more to Drew than he’d ever thought possible. Drew was never one to quibble over tactics if it got the job done. The job was to keep Felicity safe.

  The look of desperation and determination that pursed her lips frightened him more than his initial introduction to his filthy cell. With no other escape, he turned away and faced the wall. He had to stop her, but experience had proven that stopping Felicity required an act of God…or the Devil.

  She touched his shoulder. “I love you. I don’t want to live without you.”

  He turned to face her, mustering up all his acting ability. “But I don’t love you. Surely you know that.”

  She pressed her hand to her mouth and stepped back. Her face drained of glowing loyalty, but he couldn’t say his success pleased him. “I-I never thought…my father said…” She swallowed hard, and to only his slight surprise, squared her shoulders. “You exchanged your life for mine, and I’m not going to let you die.”

  Truly, she was unbelievable. No wonder he’d fallen so completely under her spell.

  “Actually, I did it for Ben—but I guess you did sway my decision a little. Two for one. That’s a pretty good bargain.”

  She cocked her head and studied him. He forced himself to meet her steady gaze to prevent her from figuring him out.

  “You said you missed me.”

  He seized on the note of doubt in her voice. “I believe I said I wanted you. You’ve always been an eager mount, maybe too eager.” He shook his head and sighed. “If I ever kept a woman permanently, she’d have to be a virgin first. Sorry.”

  She tucked strands of her wild mane back into her bun. Her chin quivered. “I don’t believe you.”

  “That’s wise. But I think we both agree it’s highly unlikely I’d settle down with one woman, virgin or not. I think I’d rather hang.”

  When he thought he couldn’t take another moment of her hurt stare, she whirled away from him and strode to the far side of the cell. “I don’t need to hear any more of this.”

  He couldn’t move to comfort her, which was just as well. That he’d attacked her most vulnerable spot had been intentional. He had no choice—her life was at stake. As far as he knew, she was crying. The words he’d chosen were especially cruel. They had to be. He leaned against the wall and waited. Her silence unnerved him.

  “What are you doing over there?”

  “Waiting to be let out,” she said from the shadows.

  She didn’t sound as if she’d been crying. She sounded angry. He realized he would never see her again, and he hated the way things had to be left between them.

  “I’m sure I’m not capable of loving anyone, Felicity,” he said.

  “Shut up.”

  He took her advice. If he kept babbling, he might end up confessing his love—and that he could never do. He slid to the floor and waited.

  He was rescued from the tortured silence in half the time promised. The young soldier was out of breath when he unlocked the door. “Soldiers are coming. I have to get you out of here.”

  Felicity slipped through the door the moment he swung it open. She kept her back straight and her gaze away from Drew’s. Her composure belied what had passed between them.

  Drew was a wreck. During the time she’d stood in the darkness of his cell, remote yet painfully near, he’d felt as if he’d been made to chew on his own heart. It was as tough and rancid as weevil-infested biscuits. Watching her leave made him physically ill. His stomach burned.

  “You haven’t seen the last of me, love.”

  He looked up to see her staring at him from the other side of the bars.

  Her eyes seethed with anger, but she smiled sweetly. “I’ll be at your execution.”

  ***

  The tangible pain of a boot connecting with Drew’s ribs distracted him from the emotional agony of Felicity’s parting words. Success had never tasted so bitter. A few more blows delivered by his other unexpected visitors that night would soon bring him to sweet oblivion, a place where Felicity’s hatred could no longer hurt him.

  As abruptly as it had begun, the beating stopped. Drew blinked away the trickle of blood blurring his vision in time to see the soldiers’ black boots backing away from him. There were three of them. At first, instinct had urged him defend himself. The restriction of his chains had rendered the action ineffective, and only amused his attackers. Submitting to the beating had not been so bad after he realized it lessened the pain in his heart.

  A disjointed v
oice floated somewhere above him. “I wanted him docile, not dead.”

  Drew recognized the man’s nasal twang. Hatred gave him the strength to lift his head off the ground.

  “Very good. You’re conscious.” The Duke of Foxmoor turned to the soldiers. “Leave us. I wish to speak to the prisoner in private.”

  “He’s a dangerous one, Your Grace. I don’t think—”

  The duke stopped the soldier’s warning with a wave of his hand, then strutted closer to Drew. “You doubt my ability to handle this cur? I would have beaten him myself, but I had no wish to soil my hands with his blood. Get out.”

  The soldiers shuffled from the cell without further argument.

  Drew raised himself onto his elbows to get his first unguarded look at his younger brother. That he’d never seen him before this morning was not by chance. He’d steered clear of his father’s estate even if other boys from the village cut across the wooded acres and fished in its streams. To all except his illegitimate son, his father had been a kind overseer, a paternal landlord.

  Watching his brother parade around the dirty cell with a lace handkerchief covering his nose had Drew wondering what kind of man his father really had been. Apparently the old duke hadn’t had much in the way of fathering skills. Neither of his sons seemed to have turned out well. If it weren’t for the resemblance in height, Drew would doubt they shared blood. On his worst day, Lord Christian didn’t swing his hips or dangle his wrists. If Drew had thought he appeared half as effeminate as the man in his cell, he’d have never taken on the role of fop, much less worn makeup.

  “What are you looking at? Sit up.” The heightened pitch of the duke’s voice revealed his nervousness.

  Drew struggled to comply, stopping midway when the cell spun. The soldiers had delivered several blows to his head before Drew dropped to the ground and wisely shielded his face with his arms.

  The duke leaned over him. “You’re not so threatening, are you, El Diablo? I must say, you surprised me when you escaped from that Spanish prison, so I was expecting someone a little more flamboyant. Why did you keep throwing our father’s name around, anyway? After ignoring you in his own backyard, did you really think he’d aid you from halfway around the world?”